Dusk
by Rising Ivy
Summary: Same book, different twist. Imagine Twilight post World War III, a chemical war that significantly reduced the population of the human species. Now imagine it without vampires or werewolves but with something much more sinister, much more...inhuman.
1. First Sight I

**Dusk**

*Disclaimer: Every character and situation was created by Stephanie Meyer.

_First Sight_

I looked up towards the synthetically blue sky, my face warmed by the lunar energy pulsating from the overhead generator. I sighed; this was to be my last glimpse of the Phoenix Biodome—well, for a while at least. Mom stood staring, "Sweetheart, are you sure you want to go?" I nod tearing my eyes from the man-made sky. I don't trust myself to speak; I'm just that bad of a liar. Together we climb into the sleek pod that would take me towards the airport; towards that unprotected, constantly rainy part of the United States of America—Forks, Washington.

After World War Three, the human species was reeling from the effects of chemical warfare. The radiation alone had been enough to kill those who hadn't been directly subjected to the Gas. The generation who survived was nicknamed the Survivors…original, right? The Survivors banded together to create massive biodomes encasing North America's major cities. The Phoenix Biodome was one of the newer domes built, employing all of the latest technology. It was famous for its startlingly real-like blue sky, thanks to the city's sophisticated holograph machines, and for its efficient harvesting of lunar energy which provided essential nutrients now that the Sun was no longer visible through the thick clouds of the lithosphere. But towns like Forks were a completely different kettle of fish. Forks was a town established during the Resurgence, a time six hundred years post WWIII, without a biodome. It was part of a series of towns designed to reintegrate humans into our natural environment. The population of Forks? Who cares? It's just another reminder of why the Resurgence didn't work. Just another reminder of what I'm forcing myself into.

My mom and I sit opposite each other in the pod as it whizzes through the Biodome. _I'm not abandoning her_, I tell myself. She's living with Phil now. And he's a decent man; he'll make sure she has enough frozen dinners to fend for herself when he's not home, and remember to lock the house when they leave. I smile at her to calm her down, she's wringing her hands again (it's something she always does when she's nervous). _No_, I tell myself, _this is the best thing for her_. An hour later I've boarded the air-carrier after assuring Mom that I'll be just fine, and yes, of course, I'll call.

Charlie picked me up at the air-carrier terminal. We exchanged terse greetings. He offered to carry my bag. "Okay," I mumbled. We didn't talk until we were in his hover car headed toward my new home. I stared out the window. Blue and white paint were caked onto the side of his hover car, separated regularly by miniature lunar lights that glowed red when Charlie turned the siren on. Here in Forks, he was Police Chief Swan. I would have gone for calling him Charlie but he won't let me say it in his presence. So I'm stuck with calling him Dad. At least it's monosyllabic.

"Er—uh, sorry about the weather Bells."

I know this is his attempt at a joke, the weather at Forks is nearly always raining. Today is no different. Dark green teardrops slither down the hover car's windows like tiny sludge-filled rivers. Disgusting, over a millennia have passed since the last major gassings and the sky still spews out its own bile. _What is there left to cleanse_, I wonder.

"I'll get used to it," I mutter back. We hover over the ill-kept roads in silence. Charlie waits a few moments before breaking it.

"I, ah, got you a little something." He says it almost shyly, like he's afraid of the answer.

"Mhmm," I've never been a particularly loquacious person. Why start now?

"Bought it off of Billy Black. You remember him, right?" I shake my head. Charlie continues anyway, "We used to bait the slime with him." That would explain it. There are some memories no one wants to relive. Baiting the slime was an old game Charlie made me play with him when I was younger. It was kind of like old school fishing (if fishing was anything like what our history textbooks said it was) only instead of pulling aquatic animals out of a lake, we would try to remove trash from the muck-filled slime someone decided to call Lake Oneata. It was part of some restoration project for the town.

"Anyhow," Charlie kept talking, oblivious to my involuntary shudder at the memory. "I figured I'd get you your own hover car…to get to school and stuff like that."

I was touched, like me, Charlie wasn't the overly emotional type.

"Thanks, Dad."

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, nodded in my direction as if to say "No problem". Instead he said, "It's got a couple of years on it, but it runs great".

"How many years," I ask, not really wanting to know the answer.

"Well, Billy bought it…" he looks over at me. "About the time you were born."

"Did it already have years on it?"

"Yeah," he took his eyes off the road to glance at me guiltily. "I think it already had about fifteen years to its name."

"Thanks, I'm looking forward to seeing it." The lie sounds weak even to me.

He nods and smiles. I look back out the window. It looked as though all the color had been sapped out of it. Dark green rain continued to pound on the dusty green moss that barely covered the brown mud underneath. Even the gnarled Evergreen trees, that had been reintroduced some seventy years earlier, seemed to droop toward the dank ground, sweeping their branches over the rough-hewn gravel of the road. This was far from the bright colors of the Biodome. It was downright depressing.

A couple more moments of silence and we pulled into Charlie's house—my house, I corrected myself mentally. Parked in the front was the ancient hover car. However baffling it may seem, I instantly took to it. It had that sturdy look of something that could stand up on its own. I gushed that it was just perfect for me. Charlie smiled sheepishly, and murmured a quick your-welcome, hauling my single bag out of the trunk and into the house.

After he had set my suitcase down on my bed, and told me he would just be downstairs if I needed anything, he left. I smiled quickly after he left, mentally thanking him for the space he was giving me. Then I groaned. I couldn't help it as I looked around the room. It was exactly the same as it had been the day I was brought home from the hospital minus the stuffed animal collection. Oh, and there was now a desk where the crib used to be.

I thought about my new school as I unpacked; Forks High School…definitely an original sounding name. I was already dreading it. The entire school had half the students that my junior class in the Biodome had. I was going to be the new, weird transfer kid from one of the Big Biodomes. Only instead of the spectacularly decked-out-in-the-latest-technology with a full-blown lunar tan Phoenix Biodome stereotype, I looked as if I could have been born in the time of the Resurgence—pale-skinned, mousey-haired, oddly disoriented. Not that I was popular in the Biodome, far from it, but at least in a school of over three thousand I had a _chance_. The rain began to pour. Green slapped my window over and over again almost as if it were reprimanding me for the monstrous teardrops streaming down my face. It was a long night.

By the time I woke up, it had stopped raining. Sickly green vapors were rising from the wet ground in tendrils, snaking upwards to my bedroom window. Gross.

I walked downstairs to breakfast. "Morning," I said. Charlie grunted. That was the extent of our conversation until he left for work muttering something about good luck on my first day of school. When I was putting my plate into the cleaning oven (a dishwasher of sorts that uses high pressure steam instead of water to clean things) something caught my eye on the mantel. They were simple digital holographs of me that Renee had sent him over the years. It wasn't hard to decide they were not going to stay in plain sight much longer. I gathered them up and lined them all in Charlie's office. I even closed the door for good measure. Glancing back at the mantle, I smiled. That was better.

I glanced at the red digital numbers on the wall. I would be early to school if I left now but there was no way I was staying any longer in the house. I quickly stepped into my thick protection suit before heading out the door. The air might be breathable but the rain in Forks had enough acidity in it to speed up the disintegration of your clothes by light years. Once outside, my rubber-soled boots squelched through the greenish-brown ooze on the way to my new hovercraft. I shuddered, the Biodome, thanks to its pre-programmed weather, was never like this. At least the hover car's interior was mercifully rain, ooze, and vapor free. Excellent.

I turned the hovercraft on and immediately began looking around for a tortured animal. Oh, I breathed a sigh of relief when I realized that it was only my dinosaur hovercraft wheezing loudly and not some sadist hurting an innocent creature. I took a couple of steadying breaths. It was actually not that bad once you got used to it—kind of comforting actually.

When I finally managed to get to the school, I stopped the hover car in front of the first building I saw. I got out and trudged my way into the building, finding the office quickly. A red-haired woman came up to greet me. She looked at me expectantly.

"I'm Isabella Swan."

Oh, there it is; recognition flooded her features. I had no doubt she knew who I was. The town was just too darn small for unknowns. I left the building as soon as I received my class schedule and a map of the school. It didn't take long to find the student landing lot, park my hover car and follow some students into the closest building. Mr. Mason; English; classmates gawking at me despite the fact that I was seated in the very back of the classroom, yup, first period sucked. Someone called Mike helped me get to my next class, overly helpful, if you were to ask me. But by the time I got to lunch, I was able to recognize some people who had the same classes as I did. In that way, school had been productive.

The cafeteria was uninteresting for the most part. Whitewash walls displayed holographs of the town outside on its better days, thoroughly unsuccessful at brightening up the lunchroom. I sat at a long table, and nodded occasionally whenever whoever (never actually remembered her name) was talking with me about teachers. Actually it was more of a monologue—I didn't jump in much. Then, I saw them.

They sat in the far back, five of them, biodegradable trays still filled with the same gruel that I had been trying to pick at for the last fifteen minutes. They were all different from each other but all of them together were somehow the same, as if everyone else were the ones that were different. Their skin was flawless, not in the free-from-acne way but it seemed like stone, cool polished marble with not a trace of imperfections. At first glance they were beautiful, captivatingly beautiful. At a closer look, they were just as radiant. But there was something perceptibly wrong with them.

They didn't seem to talk, listen to, or otherwise engage in any of the other students. They sat there, not looking at each other but still moving their mouths in some sort of quiet conversation. Each of them, the two girls and three boys, were _glowing_. I mean, they seemed to actually give off some sort of faint light that wrapped itself around their bodies in thin filaments like halos. And their eyes…I can't really put my finger on it. There was no emotion in those eyes. None. Not hate, or disinterest or seriousness, nothing. It was as if they were—inhuman, those eyes. I couldn't stop staring, those unfeeling eyes were…just…so…enticing. I broke my gaze when the littlest one, the thin black-haired girl left the lunch table, deposited her uneaten food in the garbage receptacle drone and walked out of the cafeteria. Ordinarily I wouldn't have bothered to pay attention to a girl doing something so mundane as leaving the lunch room but this one did it with such grace she looked as if she were rehearsing for a musical number. My eyes flicked back toward them.

"Who are _they?_" I asked the girl beside me.


	2. First Sight II

*Disclaimer: All of the characters and situations are the creation of Stephanie Meyer

_First Sight Part II_

The girl stared at me as if somehow the perpetually rainy weather in this place had made me sprout a frog-shaped tumor on my neck or something.

"The black haired, pixie girl that just left was Alice Cullen. There's Emmett Cullen, Jasper and Rosalie Hale and Edward Cullen, he's the one who was just looking at us." With each name she gave a nod of her head in their direction. If she was going for subtlety, she definitely missed the boat.

She then proceeded to tell me all the local gossip about the Cullen family. There was a lot of it. They just moved from Alaska. I tuned out a bit after she mentioned that. I was trying to figure it out. Okay, so Alaska's one of the few places on the Continent that wasn't attacked by the Gas. But then again the radiation caused by local Canadian skirmishes had caused the Fairbanks Biodome to become a modern Atlantis after the glacier meltings while the rest of the state had taken on the title of the Colder Dust Bowl. It was harder to decide which place was worse, there or here. I mentally decided that Alaska won; it was at least too cold for rain there. I tuned back into the girl's monologue enough to get a few key phrases: adopted… they're all, like, together… don't think anyone's good enough for them.

Huh, okay. Yep, that'll do thank-you. I need to get going to class. Okay then, I'll catch you later. I peeked a glance at my schedule, Biology II. _You know_, I thought to myself, _there is enough unwanted biology in this town without me learning more about it_.

Four flights of stairs and an antagonizing long corridor later (I mean seriously, where are the moving sidewalks?), I walked into my Biology class. The teacher looked up at me from behind his desk, "Hello?"

"Hi I'm Bella Swan," _and I've been dry for just over sixteen years now_, I added mentally.

He nodded his head, "You can take a seat next to Mr. Cullen, please."

I looked behind me. Of course, the only empty seat in the classroom was beside _him_. Weird. It was as though some unknown author was writing this scene, pushing me toward the one person who was not in the least bit normal. I walked over and sat down next to him. He swiveled his head to glower at me. His eyes still didn't hold any feeling. None whatsoever. But his body looked enraged. On some level, primal hostility was oozing out from behind those eyes. What was that? I glanced quickly around the room. Please, tell me someone else had seen that. That…that burst of light. I could have sworn that the thin halo of light around him just flared. I know I was closer to him now than I was in the cafeteria but still…he was glowing brighter.

My notebook suddenly became interesting, and Mr. Teacher was somehow instantaneously elevated to one of those illustrious scientists that are regularly broadcasted from the Washington Capital Biodome. Every little detail about the different types of sludge found right here in Forks, became fascinating as I recorded them all in my notebook, scribbling furiously. I looked up once. I saw his unnerving amber eyes before I let my eyes flit furtively down at my paper. I wasn't afraid per se, it was simply instinctual. Even someone with as little wits as a nocturnal slug did not engage someone who (a) assumed a near feral position, (b) kept their fists in tight little balls as far away from you as humanly possibly and (c) unmistakably glowed.

The minute the bell rang Edward Cullen leapt out of his seat and was out the door all, apparently, in one fluid movement. Interesting. Naturally, I was curious. Curiosity killed the cat didn't it? I thought to myself. What bothered me more was the next saying that came to my mind, _there's more than one way to skin a cat_.

I ended up walking to my next period Phys. Ed. Class with Mike. Good guy. I thought he was even better before he asked me about Edward Cullen's behavior. Apparently, that display was not usually seen. I'll admit, I was glad that someone else had seen it too.

"Hey, did you see him _glowing_, by any chance?" I asked.

Mike looked at me a little disappointed, "Yeah, I mean, Edward's always a good looking guy."

I groaned inwardly. Nice, Bella, nice. But what could I say now, _Oh, no actually I was talking about him physically giving off some sort of light…but you didn't see it? Weird. _I waved goodbye to Mike at the girl's change room. Thankfully, Coach Clapp allowed me to sit this class out since it was my first day. As soon as the last bell of the day rang, I bolted. I walked straight to the office for my last stop before heading home.

No way. As soon I got into the office, I saw him. His bronze colored hair was a dead giveaway…well, that and the glowing thing.

"Isn't there any way, at all, Miss Duncan? Any time would do, it's just imperative that I am transferred out of sixth period Biology," Edward pleaded with the woman behind the counter, his back still turned to me.

"I'm sorry, Edward," she replied apologetically.

He nodded at her then spun on his heel to face me. His halo flared again, his eyes glaring straight at me. Dead. His eyes looked expressionless, emotionless, dead. He quickly brushed past me, disappearing through the open door. Miss Duncan smiled at me sweetly and asked about my first day as I handed her the necessary paperwork.

"Great," I managed to splutter. I was still trying to recover from the panic attack I had suffered thirty seconds earlier just looking at Edward. Neither of us bought the lie.

I stepped into my hover car and locked the doors. The rain, which had kept up all day, was sloshing down the sides of my windows. Great, green, globs of guck continued to pound on the sides of the hover car while I sat there, staring out the front windshield. It continued as I fired up the roaring engine and all the way back to Charlie's house. I drove mutely, mechanically, uncomprehending while the rain battered the sides of my hover car.


	3. Open Book I

_Open Book_

*All content and characters are the creation of Stephanie Meyer

*Author's Note: A couple of friends, as well as Duke Luke of Sparta, said that they wanted to see more of my original scenes added to the already existing plot of Twilight. While this was not originally my plan (I was opting for more of a _Pride and Prejudice and Zombies_ approach to Stephanie Meyer's book) I thought that my Fanfic could benefit from this suggestion. As such, from this point onwards, each chapter will include a minimum of one original scene. Thanks to all my readers out there! (Sorry for carrying on but there is something I should add. Warning: The first scene of this chapter is a little disturbing, but I soon get back to my usual dry, but witty, narration.)

_ Dark trees loomed against the night sky, their boughs swayed eerily in the slight breeze. Pale moonlight distorted their shadows, stretching them until they melded into the shadows of their neighbors. I was running; my breath ragged, jeans torn, mind racing, feet pounding, I ran. But suddenly, I was no longer running. I was falling. The ground surged to meet me. My head landed unceremoniously on a gnarled tree root. Blood, I felt blood. It was gushing forth from a wound on my head, mingling its crimson current with the pool of shadows I lay in. I held my hand to the cut and sat upright. I could no longer run. Blood matted my hair, glided down my wrist in dark droplets. Here I sat and stared at my hand that was covered in that dark scarlet ooze. _

_I saw it. Out of the corner of my eye, I swear I saw it. A shimmer. I swiveled my head around to face it. There he was; Edward. His aura shimmered flagrantly around his pale skin. But it was no longer a bright, heavenly glow of subtle light. Instead he was surrounded by sickly waves of…I could not describe it. It was like the heat waves that one sees after a heavy rainfall when an invisible shimmer rises into the air from the hot tar of the road. There he stood, giving off a dull light in menacing waves, while his dead eyes bore into me. _

_ The rain came quickly. But this was not like the rain in Forks. This burned. I screamed, contorting my body with each drop of green acid that touched my skin. The wound in my head seared. Pain exploded behind my eyes. The blood on the forest floor ran into the dark green raindrops. I lifted my hands to my eyes. I felt wetness. I pulled them back quickly. I saw uncomprehending. My screams, shrieks and moans became those of terror instead of pain. My hands! My hands! The rain had burned through the skin. Flesh dangled in sickening clumps off my palm. I could see the red muscles inflamed with the continuous onslaught of rain, of acid. White gleamed surreally from behind the muscle, appearing only for an instant. I screamed again. There are no words to describe the terror bubbling up behind my heart. Bone! I could see bone!_

_ I looked up at Edward. He still stood there. Watching me from behind those dead eyes. Intact. He stood, staring, as the green drops slithered down his body not for a moment dulling the light that emanated from him. I lay helpless, whimpering, looking to him for any measure of salvation he could offer me, until the rain got into my eyes and all I could see was blackness._

I awoke sweating. I sat in bed, grasping my pillow until my breathing became regular and my pulse returned to its normal da-dum, da-dum, da-dum. I glanced at the red digital numbers of my bedside clock, 3:54am. Throwing back the covers I hesitantly climbed out of bed. I quietly pulled on a pair of jeans and a simple sweater. I didn't want to wake Charlie. Then I opened the door to my room, snuck past Charlie's bedroom, and went down the stairs as softly as I could. I curled up on the living room couch, staring out of the house window at the rain. It came down steadily. It was the one constant about life in Forks, the rain. It never disappointed.

I must have fallen asleep again because suddenly I felt Charlie shaking me gently, "Hey kiddo, don't you have school today?" I groaned and said, yes, unfortunately I did, or something like that. Hopping off of the couch, I realized just how tired I was. Well, that and the time. I was going to be late. I opted to skip breakfast, instead grabbing my protection suit.

"Bells?" Charlie called.

"Yeah?"

"It's not raining?"

What? I shot a glance out the window. The rain had disappeared and with it the slowly tumbling fog that usually accompanied it. Heavy silver clouds floated above the house.

"Thanks Dad, I think I'll take it just in case."

"OK. Bye, then. I'll see you tonight, Bells."

"Bye."

I walked through the front door, down the porch steps and into my hover car, tossing the unflattering protection suit on the passenger seat. I must be getting used to the hover car because I no longer jump whenever I start the engine.

I couldn't stop thinking about my nightmare last night and getting closer and closer to school was doing nothing to ease my anxiety. I don't want to see him. Edward, I mean. I shuddered to think about looking at those dead eyes during lunch or Biology. Gripping the steering wheel hard, I managed to find a parking spot to land the hover car.

It was only by some strange twist of Fate that I wasn't late to school. The only thought that terrified me more than showing up late to class on my second day of school was the thought of seeing Edward Cullen again. By the time lunch rolled around I was refusing to make eye contact with anyone, afraid that if I looked up I would be staring into a dead man's pupils.

Alright, I'll admit, I caved. I stole a glance at the Cullen table while waiting in the lunch line. He wasn't there. But instead of feeling elated or at least relieved, I felt…I don't know interested, maybe. I don't understand why he's not there. It couldn't possibly be because of—_Stop_, I scold myself silently. It's just dumb to think that I was in any way responsible for his absence. I mumbled something to myself. Unfortunately Jessica heard.

"Hey, Bella? Is there something wrong?"

"No, sorry, I was just wondering about something."

She shrugged her shoulders, "Well, what is it?"

"Why did curiosity always kill the _cat_?" I bit my lip while I read her facial expression. "Why not the dog? Or the rabbit?" I continued.

"I don't know. Maybe it's um, what do you call the thing where words in the same sentence have the same sound?"

"Alliteration," I provided.

"Yeah, maybe it's that."

I nodded but I was still thinking about the expression. Because, as far as I knew, only humans ended up hurt in those sorts of situations.

Edward Cullen wasn't in Biology. Neither did he show up to school for the rest of the week. By the weekend, the mundane that was Forks had erased all traces of my panic at seeing Edward. School was still school, boring, predictable etc. But by this time, I could recognize more than a few faces in my classes, and the gossip surrounding my newness to the town had begun to subside. Charlie and I were beginning to get used to living with each other, which was good because our monosyllabic conversations would drive anyone else out of the house…Speaking of my mom, I managed to get in touch with her too. Turns out, Charlie's Conference Simulator was in decent working order.

I stepped inside the pod, slipped on my headset and slid the door in place.

"Welcome to your Conference Simulator," droned a mechanical voice. "Please state your name."

"Bella."

"I think you said, Bella. Is this correct?"

"Yes," I rolled my eyes, sometimes I missed the old keyboard version of the Simulator.

"Welcome Bella. Who would you like to Conference?"

"Mom."

"Do you mean, Martha?"

"No."

"Please restate who you would like to Conference."

"Mom."

"Do you mean, Martin?"

I groaned, "No."

"I'm sorry. Please restate who you would like to Conference."

"Renee."

"Do you mean, Renee Swan?"

I paused, Charlie still hadn't changed her name. I'll have to fix that. I answered back near robotic myself, "Yes."

"Dialing Renee Swan. Please, hold until your party is reached." The plus side to Conference Simulators is that, unlike a cell phone or landline, you can always reach who you're calling. The Simulator taps into a person's brainwaves, allowing total mental communication, no speaking required. "Ordinary humans have achieved telepathy," that was the marketing slogan of the Simulator. Apparently, the people at Conference's Inc. are working on a portable version whether they'll accomplish it in my lifetime is another story. Finally, Mom picked up,

"Hello?"

"Hi, Mom."

"Bells, it's so great to finally talk with you. So, how's Forks?"

"Wet."

"How are you getting on in school? Any cute boys there? Is Charlie alright?"

"Fine, haven't noticed, and yes," I said as I answered each of her questions in turn.

"That's great. I really miss you sweetheart. Phil sends his love, as always."

"Miss you too, Mom. I'm glad everything's working out with you and Phil."

"Me too, Bella."

"Mom, I'm really tired, can I conference you later?"

"Of course, darling. Say hi to Charlie for me."

"Will do, bye."

"Bye."

I took off the headset, breaking the telepathic connection. I stepped out of the simulator only after I had changed my mom's entry to just read Renee. There was no reason to hurt Charlie by imputing her new last name, or rather Phil's last name.


	4. Open Book II

Sorry for not posting in a while, summer's been extremely hectic and busy for me—not that that's really an excuse though. From now on, I will try my hardest to post every week.

DISCLAIMER: All characters and plot are the creation of Stephanie Meyer but any twists and deviations from the original are of my imaginings.

_Open Book II_

Monday I did not wake up to rain. Instead I woke up to cold. It must have permeated the house in the night. The walls were cool to the touch, the floor felt like blocks of ice, even the air felt crisp with the new chill. Unpleasant, would be the best word to describe it. It was unpleasant to shiver periodically as I put on jeans and a hoodie; it was unpleasant to ram my shin rather hard into my dresser as I turned to pick up my book bag; it was unpleasant to walk to the hover car as the frigid wind bit unto me; and it was doubly unpleasant to find that my ancient hover car's heating feature was in need of serious repair.

The unpleasantness of the day subsided until lunch, maintaining a dull persistence during classes where boredom became a new faucet of unpleasantness. But the unpleasantness flared almost instantaneously as I began walking to the cafeteria. Great, green, globular goop was floating calmly to the ground. I couldn't help shuddering, "Ew."

Mike, who had insisted on walking me to the lunchroom, glanced at me in—well, I'm not actually sure if it was confusion or surprise—"You don't like snow?"

"This is snow?"

"Yeah, wait what did you think it was?"

"Rain."

"Rain?"

"Like, some sort of mutated, thick rain or something."

He shook his head rather theatrically, "Well, let me introduce you properly. Miss Isabella Swan, this is snow. Snow, this is Isabella Swan."

Let me set the record straight: Mike is not a funny person. Period. Of course, I knew what snow was, the Phoenix Biodome always programmed snow to fall on Christmas Day and New Year's Eve. But it was in no way, shape or form, the same snow that fell in Forks. The Biodome's snow was small, dainty white fluff balls that swirled out of the sky in predetermined wind currents at a pre-calculated speed and in known quantities. Snow, like every other type of weather at the Biodome, was strictly regulated. Plus, on those days all roads and exposed surfaces were heated up precisely 4.37 degrees Celsius from their regular temperature so that the snow would melt on contact. There was none of this piling of green hills on the road that happened here. It was all so…ugh! I did not wear the right shoes for this nonsense. Gross, gross, gross.

I left Mike to stomp to the cafeteria by myself after people started throwing the "snow". I could not believe they were picking that stuff up! At the very least, they should be worried about how much of it their washing droids could remove from their saturated clothing. Not to mention the clear lack of hygiene that that garbage-from-the-sky represented.

The warmth from the cafeteria was a blessing after the frigidity of the air outside. No…he couldn't possibly be…But there he was, sitting there, laughing with his siblings, the green snow melting in his coppery hair. And suddenly, all of the anxiety, all of the fear that had hounded me for the past week at the thought of his unexpected return came rushing back. I took a step backward involuntarily before I was rooted in place by our sudden eye contact. Those eyes! They held nothing, were nothing, yet still they probed deeper (is that even possible?) I tore my eyes away quickly, but they were still there behind my eyelids when I closed my eyes. I could see them still!

"Bella," Jessica was at my arm, looking at me concerned (how did she get there?) "Bella, are you okay?"

"Fine, I just remembered something I need to do. Nothing important," I lied.

For the rest of lunch I answered questions with a monotone, participated only enough not to arouse undue attention, but I could not stop thinking of Edward. There was something markedly different about him; I just couldn't put my finger on it. His eyes were still the same void of chilly emptiness they were the last time I saw him. His body language was definitely different, though. Instead of the primal hostility that radiated from him last week, he seemed more relaxed, more comfortable even. But it was more than that...

I stole a furtive glance at him but instead of darting my eyes back to the small patch of table I had been staring at for the last half hour, I kept my eyes on him. And that's when I noticed _it_. Well, not actually _it_, per se, but the absence of _it_. The unmistakable glow, the physical halo of light that had surrounded him and his family members last week was nearly gone. It twinkled softly around the edges of his toned physique, shimmering in and out of sight periodically. Against every rational thought racing in my head, I could not help but banish a ridiculous notion as it began to burrow itself deeper into my mind. It was preposterous, even, but I simply could not let it go: Edward Cullen was beautiful.


	5. Open Book III

DISCLAIMER: All characters and situations are the property of Stephanie Meyer.

Open Book III

"Hello," my head snapped up at the voice. I stared uncomprehendingly up at Edward—had he really spoken? It wasn't likely, I decided. I took out my graphic notebook, sort of like an electronic notepad but designed to recognize my handwriting, convert it to standard font and print out a final page of notes after use, determined to pay attention to this Biology lesson rather than entertain ridiculous notions. They were not as ridiculous when he spoke again, "I'm Edward Cullen. I apologize for being so rude as to not introduce myself to you last week. You must be Bella." I swiveled my entire body toward him utterly confused. I managed a slow nod of assent before Mr. Banner began class.

Today, Mr. Banner explained, boredom would reach new heights as we, along with our partners, were to differentiate different stages of decomposition in a sub-species of the pine tree. This sub-species as we all know—says Mr. Banner—emerged a mere thirty years after the reintroduction of pines into the Forks area and was named _arborius drippicus _or as the locals referred to it, Drippy trees. These trees were especially interesting to the environmental and scientific community for their ability to secrete sap-like ooze from their outer layer of bark prior to a heavy rainstorm. Throughout his speech, Mr. Banner became more and more enthused. I attempted to stifle a yawn—attempted being the operative word. Five minutes later his exited monologue on the various stages of decomposition mercifully came to an end because for a while it looked like I would witness my own decomposition before class was over.

Edward passed me the first slide, "Ladies first." Our fingers met as he slid the microscope toward me. My hand snapped back to my side. The moment our hands made contact, I felt a strong vibration—I mean a physical vibration that jolted my hand. I looked up at him. His eyes…There was something about them that frightened me. I was staring into a cadaver's pupils that was certain, but it was something more than that. No, I was scared because I had stumbled upon something unknown. There had been a fundamental shift. It had gone against all instinctual knowledge, all common sense, all sensible thought. I was afraid that I was no longer afraid. I no longer looked into the eyes of a dead man and felt the hairs rising. I no longer felt that sickening churning of my stomach at the realization that I was interacting with something dead. Instead, I felt curiosity, interest even. That is what scared me the most. Curiosity killed the cat, didn't it? I refused to look at him for the rest of biology even though we carried on a decent (and by decent, I mean an awkward attempt at) conversation.

The rest of the day passed without incident apart from my near collision with another hover car in the student parking lot. I hovered home in as much silence as my clanking engine would allow. There was—as per usual—nothing interesting about home. Charlie and I held our monosyllabic conversations in between pauses, awkward starts and stops, and the occasional "pass the salt," or some such phrase. I Conferenced Mom to let her know that I was still alive and kicking, and I topped off a low key evening by finishing my homework and organizing my backpack for the next day. If anyone had wanted to write down the day's events in, I don't know some decent fan fiction story or something, they would have been envious at the sheer amount of unadulterated entertainment I was experiencing tonight.

10:38pm read my red digital clock. With nothing left to do and no new books to read, I opted for an early bedtime. I wasn't even that tired. But sleep has a way of weaseling its way into your limbs despite how awake you think you are. My eyelids made a few futile attempts at staying open before succumbing to the suddenly overwhelming desire to melt into sleep.

_ I felt the weight of someone lying next to me. I was very comfortable, much as if I had been curled up on the couch downstairs with a blanket and settled into it so nicely that I was too cozy to get up again. Whoever I was lying against was not adding any of their body heat to mine, however. They were neither hot nor cold, simply there. Who was beside me? I gently rolled my body over coming to rest with my head on the crook of my right arm—my favorite comfortable position. I was staring at the back of a man, whoever he was. He wore a simple grey, cable-knit sweater that hugged his toned physique attractively. I trailed the forefinger of my left hand down the curve of his spine. There was no thought in this action, it was simply instinctual—I felt I _needed_ to. I felt him begin to twist his body to face me. My comfort made my mind slow. I know those eyes…_

_ They stared at me, glassed over, static. _Dead_! My brain shrieked, _unnatural! _It took me a few more frantic seconds to identify the man next to me as Edward. No, no, no, I whispered over and over as it sunk in. I tried to shimmy backward but almost immediately met with a hard wall. I began to panic; my breathing came quicker; sweat began glistening on my forehead. I tried to stand but my head met with the same unyielding resistance that my back had. My chest contracted; breathing was harder now; my mind abandoned me; all I could think was that there was no way out,_

no way out,

**no way out**

**no way out!**

_ "Bella?"_

_ I whipped my head around, my eyes frantically searching out the dead eyes that seemed to speak to me. Edward's eyes bore into me as he spoke again, "Bella?" I couldn't help it, I screamed. Fear tangled its bony fingers around my heart, as I began pounding on the low ceiling above me. Wood, I felt wood. In between blood curdling shrieks, I must have realized I was in a coffin. _

_ I kept banging futilely at the hard ceiling. I kept pounding even when my knuckles started to bleed and the blood trailed down my wrists. I kept beating even when tears began streaming down my cheekbones in small rivers. I kept trying to escape while Edward's dead eyes watched me—constantly staring as I struggled to get out of the ground._


	6. You Cannot Love What You Do Not Know

**You Cannot Love That Which You Do Not Know**

It happened on my way to school. My nightmare suddenly became real.

My ancient hover car clanked along down the empty stretch of road, wobbling precariously in mid-air as I pushed it forward. The morning had been mundane. A cup of coffee, a terse goodbye to Charlie and with a thick protection suit in hand, I left the house quietly. I supposed that I had looked like my usual apathetic self, but when I looked in the mirror I saw myself differently. Dark, purple splotches had begun to form under my eyes; bruises from the nightly beatings of my nightmares. My eyelids hung sleepily over glazed over eyes. Worse still was my grey pallor. My fair skin looked sick, diseased. I could have been the Grim Reaper's daughter. And if my changed appearance was any indication, it looked like I would be visiting dear old Dad soon.

Clank, clank, clank: my hover car's rhythmic splutters brought me back to that desolate stretch of road. It was foggy. Light green vapors rose lazily from the ground. The ugly trees that lined the road bent their boughs to the floor. They were dripping. Sticky pools of green goo collected on branches then slowly slithered off the smooth bark. Drip, drip, drip…It would rain soon.

My nightmare came rushing back to me. _Trapped! Coffin! No way out! My name being called over and over by that cadaver; Edward's eyes staring at me; boring into me; dead, they were dead, his eyes!_ The fog roiled menacingly around the hover car. _Trapped! I was pounding on the coffin!_ The trees dripped ominously, their ooze pelting my windows. _I couldn't get out! I was trapped with a dead man!_ **Clank**, clank, **clank**, clank, my hover car had a pulse! It was a heartbeat. It was my heartbeat! Da-dum, da-dum, da-dum. _Those eyes! Dead, they were dead!_ Drip, drip, drip. I glanced at the rearview mirror. My grisly reflection looked back at me. **Clank**, clank, **clank, **clank. My skin! Beads of sweat appeared on my grey forehead. I need to get out! I need to leave! Da-dum, da-dum.

I quickly cut the engine, killing the steady pulse of the hover car. The silence did nothing to quell my anxiety. It amplified my frantic heartbeat, invited the onslaught of green, tree sap (drip, drip, drip), welcomed the throb of my blood as it rushed through my veins. I lunged for my protection suit with my left hand while ripping open the door with my right. I slammed the hover car door, fumbling with my protection suit. My breath was coming in jaggedly, as I slipped one foot, then the other into the suit. I began walking away from my hover car while I zipped up the adult-sized onesie. I didn't know where I was walking to; I just needed to get away.

The barren dirt road provided a certain solace from the chaotic churning of my own thoughts. I was going to be late for school, I realized. I found I didn't care. One foot in front of the other, I trudged on. Slowly, my heart rate returned to normal. Gradually, my thoughts slowed when I recognized there was nothing on this dank stretch that would trap me. I came to understand that there were no coffins to be seen and as dead as it seemed, Forks was eerily, quietly alive. The gentle _thuds_ of my footfalls were a simple meter but I missed the steady clanks of my hover car. I turned around, intending to work my way back to my dinosaur of a hover car when I realized I could no longer see it. And it had gotten foggier, which made it impossible to discern how far away the hover car actually was. Stifling some of the more colorful language in my vocabulary, I began to march back the way I came. After five minutes of walking, the fog was so thick I could barely see more than a couple feet in front of me. That's when I fell.

Later I would learn that I had not seen the bend in the road and had unknowingly stepped over the edge of a small precipice that dropped twenty feet to the terrain below. But at the moment, all I knew was that I was falling.

The assurance of solid ground disappeared. My stomach lurched painfully, bumping my heart into my throat. I screamed. The shriek, carrying nothing but pure terror, was abruptly cut off when I landed on my back. My head landed a split second later. I can't remember anything else of the next half an hour.

**I know that this is a bit darker for me, but I think Bella needs a psychological kick to establish a connection to Edward. The title of the chapter is the only hint I'm giving you for the big twist that's coming up in the next couple of chapters. **


	7. Buried Alive

*All characters are property of Stephanie Meyer (ditto for the last chapter, I just forgot to post it)

**Buried Alive**

Silence roused me to darkness. I lay there for a few moments, dazed but oddly calm. It was only when I discovered that I could move no more than a few inches that I began to panic. Where was I? I remember falling, then…nothing. It took a couple more minutes of desperate thinking before my mind recognized that I was underground. I was still wearing my thick protection suit and if I looked close enough, I could see clumps of dirt resting on the clear visor that covered my face. _Alright_, my mind rationalized, _I am underground_.

_Oh my God, I'm underground!_ The fact that I couldn't move myself more than a couple of inches in either direction meant that I had to be at least a couple of feet below the surface. I fought down the urge to scream, forcing myself to breathe in slow, shallow breaths. I only had whatever oxygen was left in my protection suit and I did not know how long I had been unconscious. _If I die now_, I suddenly thought to myself, _Charlie could save money on the burial_. It's funny what you come up with in near-death experiences.

I knew what I had to do; I had to dig myself out. In theory, the idea was simple. Needless to say that the reality caused me a great deal more difficulty than I had anticipated. I began by slowly rotating my hands. If I could free my hands, I reasoned, than I could work on freeing my arms, and later my entire self. I worked with quiet determination, but each time I thought I made progress, a fresh wave of dirt would settle on my hands and I'd have to begin all over again.

I don't know when I decided to give up, or how long I had been struggling against the mound of dirt pressing down on me. I did know that it was eerily peaceful, lying there underground. (The dirt formed my own au naturel Temper-pedic mattress.) As far as I could see, there were two options: I could go to sleep (for an undetermined period of time) or, I could muse on whichever or whatever took my fancy.

So naturally, I began thinking of Edward Cullen. He was…different. Apart from the odd glowing thing, there was something else. Something behind those dead eyes, that was distinctly inhuman…

"Bella?"

I shifted my position slightly; had I really heard someone call my name?

"Bella! Bella! Where are you?"

Right, OK, so unless some mutant creepy-crawler was trying to woo me before assisting in my decomposition, someone was definitely calling me.

"Here! I'm here!" I shouted back.

"Bella?"

"Yes, I'm here! I'm here! Help me!"

"Keep talking, where are you?"

"Underground! I'm underground!"

The dirt around me began to shake, as if the dank earth itself was vibrating with my cries.

"I'm almost there," the voice said.

"Can you get here faster?" I called up, panicking now that I could sense a way out.

It began to get lighter. Someone was shoveling the dirt off of me, and the earth seemed to help my rescuer by shaking itself off of me. (In retrospect, I knew why the dirt was vibrating. But I only discovered that later). Gradually, Forks came into view. The gnarly Drippy Trees dropped their green goop onto the brown forest floor. I could see the ledge, about twenty feet up, where I must have stepped off of. And then I saw him—Edward—speak of the devil.

"Edward," I said.

He looked at me as if my brief visit to the bowels of Mother Earth had impaired my thinking, "Bella."

"So," (this just got awkward). "What, ah, brings you to this part of the woods?"

"I was on my way to school when I saw your hover car. I had thought that that old thing had finally croaked and was going to offer you a ride. But you weren't in the hover car."

I stared at him skeptically, "But why did you think to check here for me?"

Edward paused, "Dumb luck, I guess."

"You guess? Or is that all you're going to tell me?"

"That's all I'm going to tell you."

"Creep." I smiled at him to let him know that I was kidding (well, not completely), "Thanks, by the way."

"Your welcome."

I counted thirty-four seconds of awkward silence before Edward nodded and turned on his heel. "Um, Edward? Where are you going?"

"I'm getting out of this ditch. Are you coming?" He called over his shoulder without looking back.

He's weird, I decided. Nevertheless I followed him, and his bizarre glowing aura as it bobbed up and down as he walked. Maybe, my judgment was a little impaired...

[Fifteen or so minutes later, when Edward and I have reached the road and our hover cars]

Edward held open the door to the passenger seat of his hover car, "Aren't you going to get in?"

"Where are we going?"  
"To the hospital."

"Why?"

"Because you might have a concussion or a fracture or some other injury from stepping off a small cliff. How did you fall off a small cliff again?"

"Hey! Number one: it was really foggy out, so I couldn't see anything. And number two, I don't need to go to the hospital, I feel perfectly fine."

"Not buying it. Get in," Edward insisted.

"No."

"Bella," Edward said exasperated.

"I don't want to get in."

"And why, pray tell, do you not want to go in. I'm only trying to help you."

"I was always taught never to enter a stranger's hover car."

"Do you know my name?"

"Of course I do, Edward. What kind of question is that?"

"Great, then I'm not a stranger. Now please get in the hover car. You're acting childish."

I tried one last-ditch effort, "Why can't we use my hover car?"

Edward glanced at my decrepit hover car, "Have you seen your hover car?"

"There's nothing wrong with my hover car," I mumbled as I climbed into the passenger seat.

Before he closed the door, Edward looked at me with a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, "Your hover car needs a walker and an IV drip."


	8. Hospital Visit

*All characters are the creation of Stephanie Meyer (but hopefully, mine have more depth:P)

**Hospital Visit**

I do not understand how anything in Forks can be this white. The hospital room I was in was paper white, with not even an ounce of Fork's characteristic green and brown. The miniature room was lit with ultra-fluorescent lunar lights, one of which happened to be flickering on and off incessantly—right above my head. It is supremely annoying. On, off, on, off, on, off…stupid lunar light.

"Bells," Charlie spoke with uncertainty, looking at me with concern.

"The light is bothering me."

"Oh," Charlie said quietly.

"Char—Dad," I corrected myself quickly. "Really, I'm fine. There is absolutely nothing wrong with me. You should go back to work. I'll bet the station needs you more than I do."

"You're in the hospital, Bells." He stated it as if it were an obvious fact I'd somehow overlooked.

"It's only circumstantial," I shrugged. Then I flashed him a smile to convince him that I was indeed A-OK. It didn't work. "So, how did you know I was here?"

"Er, uh, Edward Conferenced me," he purposefully didn't meet my eye.

"Edward," I muttered mutinously under my breath. Charlie (wisely) did not offer a comment. There was a knock at the door. I glared angrily at the flashing light, determined not to bother myself with the triviality of civility. Charlie opened the door, after another concerned glance at me.

Dr. Carlisle Cullen stepped into the room.

Wow. I am…he's just…gorgeous. Did I just hear trumpets heralding his entrance into my lowly, freakishly white, abode? Rationally, I knew he was married (happily I hear). Well, marriage has been good to him. Very, good—is that a six-pack I see against his closely fitting turtleneck? Definitely not related to Edward. (Actually, Edward is exceedingly good looking but Dr. Carlisle…Alright pull your self together Bella he's at least Charlie's age!) Speaking of Edward, he filed into the room just after his foster father.

"Bella?" Carlisle looked at me expectantly.

"It's the light," I said lamely, trying desperately to conceal my obvious staring.

"Sorry?" Carlisle glanced at my father for a translation.

"The flickering lunar light, here, is bothering Bells, Dr. Carlisle." Charlie stated in what might have been his biggest monologue in the past few weeks. Impressive.  
"We are working on it. I have already sent for the custodial staff to replace the bulb," Carlisle responded sincerely. "Bella, I've finished running some tests. You have a minor concussion, so I would suggest taking it easy for the next couple of weeks. But otherwise, you are free to go."

"Um, Dr. Carlisle?"

"Yes, Bella?"

"My brain's buzzing." I admit, not necessarily my finest rhetoric, but my head really was humming. Over and over again, actually.

"Can you describe it to me, please?" Carlisle asked concerned.

"It's like, ah, um, kind of like a ring-tone," I answered, still trying to figure it out myself.

"Bells, honey," Charlie interrupted hesitantly. "Don't get mad, but I Conferenced your mother."

"You Conferenced Renee?" I practically shrieked. My internal ringing continued. I hate being on the receiving end of a Conference call; it always gives me headaches. _Answer_, I thought.

_Bella? Bella? Is this you? It's me; it's your mother. Can you hear me?_

I glared accusingly at Charlie, mouthing an angry, "You did this."

_Mom, I can hear you. Can you try lowering your voice, please? You're a bit loud._

_Baby, oh, Bells, I was so worried about you! Charlie Conferenced earlier and said you were in the hospital._

Charlie tried to weasel out of the uncomfortable situation by making a bold move for the door. I stopped that nonsense dead in its tracks, "Dad, where are you going?"

_Isabella Swan, why are you not answering me? I asked you a very serious question. _

Charlie turned around slowly, then slunk guiltily back into the chair beside my bed, "I'm right here, Bells." _Damn straight you are_, I thought angrily.

_What did you say? Isabella, you answer me this minute!_

_Sorry Mom, _I thought quickly._ I didn't mean to think that at you…I was responding to someone else. I'm still in the hospital, Charlie's here too._

_Charlie! Oh thank goodness someone is there with you, until I can get over to Forks._

I imagined I must have looked pretty comical, sitting there in the hospital bed, underneath the annoying flashing light, with a look of pure horror on my young (and fairly average-looking) face. _What? No, you do not need to come here I am fine. _

_Bella, you are in the hospital. I don't know what you've been up to in that Resurgence-era town but I am coming to put an end to it. _

_Mom, listen to me. _ I thought desperately, I felt a strong attachment to Forks…well, if I was going to be honest to myself, I was curious about Edward. Who, or what, was he? Why did he glow? And how did he know where to find me? _Mom, look, I had a little accident, you know how clumsy I am. It is nothing serious, Dr. Carlisle is in the process of discharging me as we…think to each other. I don't need you to waste any money wasting a trip to see me. And doesn't Phil have a big game the day after tomorrow? You know that he needs you to be there, cheering him on in Swamp Ball. Please don't worry about me. I'm fine here and truthfully, Dr. Carlisle is extremely competent and very thorough I promise._

I waited holding my breath, finally Renee said (or thought, whatever) _Alright, sweetie. But can you give me Dr. Carlisle's Conferencing number so that I can speak with him?_

_Of course, give me a second. _I looked up. Dr. Carlisle was smiling at me, Charlie was looking around the room uncomfortably and Edward (who by this point had taken a seat) was laughing quietly to himself. After a couple of inquiries, I found that I had apparently been enthusiastically pantomiming my entire mental communication with my mom. Lovely.

"Dr. Carlisle, Renee (my mom) would like to know your Conferencing number, do you mind giving it to me?"

"Not at all," Carlisle smiled back. Edward's laughter got louder. _ I don't hate you but I severely dislike you at the moment_, I thought toward Edward.

_What was that Bells? Is everything OK?_ Renee answered back quickly.

_Damn it! _I cursed myself for my carelessness.

_Language, Bella_…

(I contained several other cuss words—if only barely) _Sorry Mom, I wasn't thinking of you. Are you ready for Dr. Carlisle's work Conferencing number? _I nodded encouragingly at Carlisle, signaling him to begin. _ Alright, here it comes: It's 4473-902-662-835. _

I broke off the telepathic connection after a prolonged goodbye.

"Dr. Carlisle," I said. "My mom says that she'll call you later tonight, if that's cool with you."

"Perfectly," Carlisle answered back. "You take it easy now."

"Will do. Thanks for everything doc."

Carlisle quietly left the room. So did Charlie. (He knew I was upset with him for bringing Renee into it. She needlessly, but very vocally worries about me.) That left Edward and I staring at each other. He was still smirking.


	9. No Explanations

*Note: All characters and situations are property of Stephanie Meyer

**No Explanations**

"How did you know where to find me," I asked Edward outright. His smile disappeared.

"I already told you, I was lucky. Besides, it was fairly easy to pinpoint your exact location as soon as you started screaming."

_It was fairly easy to pinpoint your exact location?_ Who says that? It's certainly not from this era.

"I understand how my screaming, which by the way I was only answering your calls, would help you. But, how could you possibly have known that I was in that…area? Judging by how far we had to walk to get back to the road, I was at least half a mile from my hover car. It was like you already knew," I accused him, frustrated.

"And what do you think happened," Edward shot back. "That I saw you hopelessly fall off that overhang, then waited around for a bit before coming to rescue you?"

I could not see straight, I was so angry. He was hiding something from me, I could feel it. "Call it women's intuition, or a hunch, but you are not telling me everything, Edward. I may have a concussion, but that hasn't changed anything. You _knew_ where I was, like you had me preprogrammed into a GPS." I know how it sounded, that I should be carted off to a containment facility instead of being discharged from the hospital, but then his eyes narrowed. It made me wonder how close my guess was to the truth.

"That is utterly absurd, Bella. Even with our technology, you know that isn't plausible." We sat there, glaring at each other. Obviously, neither one of us was planning on backing off the issue. "No one will believe you," he added scornfully.

"I wasn't planning on telling anyone," I retorted. Confusion flickered over his pristine face.

"Then, forgive my ignorance, but I do not understand why you keep harping on the matter."

"Because it matters to me! One minute I was underground waiting for my oxygen supply to run out and the next, I suddenly knew I was going to be fine. Damn it, Edward! Wouldn't you want to know how it was possible that you were saved?" I kept my voice dangerously low—an unfortunate byproduct of my fury. It may have been more effective to start yelling.

"Sometimes it's better to let the past stay where it is," Edward whispered, almost as if he was talking more to himself than me.

"Sometimes," I stressed. "But not _this_ time. This present might not have existed for me."

Edward didn't answer. Instead, he pressed his long fingers into his forehead in a gesture of frustration and—was that grief? Regret? Pain? "I don't understand why you even went looking for me in the first place," I breathed, positively fuming.

"Neither do I," Edward said it as if it caused him physical discomfort to do so. He was up, out of his chair in one swift movement. With two of his long strides, he crossed the room, opened the door and quietly left. I watched the door close with a mixture of anger and curiosity. It would have been easier to hate him if he hadn't been so human. And here I was, thinking that the dead would stay silent.

That night I could not sleep. I tossed and turned, slipping in and out of consciousness. Try as I might, I could not stop thinking of Edward. I was absolutely certain I had left nothing behind, when I sank into the dank earth; no markers of any kind. For all intents and purposes, I had been disappeared. But he knew— Edward knew that I had gone missing, knew that something had happened to me, and he knew exactly where to find me. Then there was the time. Right before my brief panic attack and claustrophobia forced me out of my hovercraft, I had noticed that it was close to 8:20am. I assume I had been walking for about twenty minutes, trying to collect my thoughts before deciding to turn back. Then, I must have walked for five minutes before stepping off the overhang. So, by general approximation, I must have blacked out around 8:45. But, when I climbed into Edward's hover car it was 10:05am. Then, if I were to exclude the fifteen minutes it took Edward and I to get back to the road, that would put the time at ten to ten. That must mean I was underground for fifty minutes, give or take five minutes. The timing doesn't work out right. Edward said he was on his way to school, when he noticed I was not in my hover car. School started at 8:30am. If that was true, (and Edward is never late—that boy is the poster child for a model student), he would have seen me walking on the road, which means, that somewhere along the line, he'd lied to me…

I drifted off to sleep for a short time before my mind woke me up again. His eyes looked different, I remembered. Had they always been a light brown? I never registered that before, I had always been fixated on their lack of expression. Suddenly, his eyes didn't seem so dead anymore. They were definitely not human, but now I wasn't so sure they were the eyes of a cadaver…

I kept switching between restless dreams and an anxious sort of awareness. Before morning, most of my frustration and anger had dissipated to be replaced with an overwhelming sense of gratitude. I was very aware that I could have easily died. My protection suit only offered an hour of oxygen. If Edward hadn't known, where I was…

I dressed quickly, pulling on whatever was clean (I was pretty sure my corn-yellow pull-over did not match my dark brown cords—but what the hell?) Breakfast was interesting. For one, Charlie was up and waiting for me with a cup of coffee.

"Um, thanks Dad," I managed to splutter as I took the mug gratefully.

"Are you sure you're alright to go to school today, Bells?"

I tried to stifle my horror by taking a large swig of coffee. It was hot. I winced as it scalded first my tongue and then my esophagus. I'm pretty sure my taste buds shriveled up and died. Well, this should make the cafeteria food more enjoyable, I thought miserably.

"Careful, it's hot," Charlie tacked on unnecessarily.

"Yeah."

"Should I call the station to confirm then? I'm due for a day off anyway," Charlie fidgeted uncomfortably.

"No, Dad, it's fine, really. I only had a mild concussion, not a brain aneurism. Besides, Dr. Carlisle gave me a note to get out of gym." I could tell Charlie wasn't convinced. "Sitting in class, is not that much different than sitting at home. Both don't really require that much effort, Dad."

"Okay," he conceded. "Just take it easy, Bells. I don't want to see you in the hospital again, anytime soon."

I agreed to be extra-careful, though with my inherent clumsiness there was no real weight to that promise. Within the hour Charlie was out of the house, on his way to the station (though, I'm fairly certain he was relieved he didn't have to play babysitter), and I had parked my ancient hover car in the student landing lot.

Much to my chagrin, I became the hot topic of conversation for the entire student body. Jessica wanted to know everything—and I mean everything, apparently she needed a detailed step-by-step breakdown of the experience. Angela asked if I wanted her to drive me home, the concern apparent on her face. (You know, I think I'm beginning to like Angela more and more.) Mike and Eric insisted on walking me to every class, just to make sure I didn't aggravate my concussion. Honestly, by the time I walked into Biology I wanted to hit my own head rather hard against a wall just to get away from everyone.

I slid into my usual seat beside Edward, who was pretending not to notice me. This was becoming a common theme. He was wearing an ivory turtleneck that hugged his torso attractively, barely hinting at the muscular chest underneath.

"Hey Edward."

He didn't respond. I plugged ahead tentatively, "I just wanted to say thank-you. I forgot to mention it yesterday."

He slowly turned, resting his eyes on me for the briefest of seconds, acknowledging the awkward thanks. Then he turned his eyes back to the board, where Mr. Banner began his lecture on the differences between the Common Slug and the Striped Tailed Slug. And though I did give an honest effort in paying attention, I could not help but be acutely aware of Edward sitting just a few inches away. A pale light danced playfully around his figure, and I couldn't stop myself from sneaking glances at him throughout the period. _God, he was beautiful_.


	10. An Interaction Six Weeks Overdue

*All characters are property of Stephanie Meyer

**An Interaction Six Weeks Overdue**

I wished I could shoot daggers from my eyes. How awesome would that be? Summoning blades from the anger and resentment deep in your core and then, thrusting them in well-placed throws from your pupils—oh, yeah that sounds good right about now. Edward stood just feet in front of me, the corners of his mouth twisted upward in the faintest hint of that oh-so-annoyingly-charming smile of his.

"There is no need for you to redo the lab, Bella. Honestly, I've already done it. I have no qualms about attaching your name at the top," Edward stared at me as if he expected me to accept his stupid little offer.

"That's cheating, and I don't do cheating, Edward. Let's just do this lab and get this over with," I all but snarled back.

I had had a wicked flu the day that I had a Biology lab. I was spewing chunks so bad I had no choice but to call Charlie and ask him to come home. Downright embarrassing. It is my firm belief that the individual should suffer in silence. Sort of like the old Kennedy saying that there's no need to "hang your dirty laundry in public." So, here I was afterschool on a Friday in my Biology room, arguing with Edward because there was no way I was going to accept his charity. Eventually he caved, not that I'm surprised. Really, it should have been a non-issue.

I stared at the specimen in front of me, lying on its back, its feet and arms pinned to the dissection board. _I'm sorry, my little furry friend_, I thought to myself before picking up the scalpel. Edward took this as hesitation, "Do you want me to do it?"

"No, Edward," I shot back, plunging the scalpel's blade deep into the belly of the furry beast. "I've got it." I finished drawing the blade up the midline of the specimen, cleanly cutting it. Edward expertly pinned the flaps of skin to the tray, and I found myself looking at the exposed innards of the poor creature.

"What exactly are we dissecting again? I wasn't really paying attention," I confess.

"The Pacific Wompossum," Edward recited.

"A Wompossum?"

"You were not paying attention in the slightest were you?" I noticed Edward turn to look at me from the corner of my eye, but I refused to meet his gaze. Instead, I focused my attention on the mess of pale pink on the dissection tray when I answered, "I already told you I wasn't."

"A Wompossum," Edward adopted a didactic tone, much as if he were a stuffy college professor instead of the strange-aura-glowing-around-a-toned-god-like-teenager that he was. "Is simply a small marsupial that evolved as a hybrid between the common wombat and the American possum," he concluded.

_Wompossum_! Ridiculous! Edward softened his voice when he asked, "What are you thinking about Bella?"

"The name. Wompossum, is just, um," I paused trying to come up with the right adjective.

"Absurd?" Edward filled in.

"Yeah."

I worked on diagramming the tangled organs of the Wompossum in silence. Dear Lord! The awkwardness was palpable.

"You know," Edward broke the silence a few minutes later. "The official rodent of Forks is the Wompossum."

Um, alright. I'll file that piece of trivia away in the not-particularly-useful-and-rather-odd part of my brain. Wait a minute, since when did Forks have an official rodent let alone an official animal? I stole a peek at Edward who was leaning over an immaculate drawing of the Wompossum's small intestine. Why does he always have to be good at everything?

"Bella, are you finished with the intestinal tract? I want to start sketching the heart and lungs." I just nodded, noticing the way he deftly maneuvered the squishy mess out of the animal and onto the dissection tray.

"I don't get it," I declared, turning to face Edward.

He looked up in mock surprise, "Do you mean to say you weren't paying attention when we discussed the organs of the body?"

I grunted in frustration, "I'm not talking about the dissection of the…Wompossom, Edward." I couldn't even get over how ridiculous that name was—Wom-po-ssum…never gets old. Edward waited politely until I pulled my thoughts away from the absurdity of the creature's name and toward what I really wanted to talk about.

"Why are you talking to me," my voice wavers as I say it.

"We have to do this lab, together."

"No, I mean, you haven't spoken to me, let alone looked my way, in six weeks. Why now?"

"You are a…very interesting woman, Bella. I apologize for my behavior before, but I would like to know you better, if that's okay," He stared at me questioningly. I glared back at him, trying not to let him know how much he'd thrown me by calling me a woman.

"No, it's not okay," I replied hotly. "You can't have something for nothing Edward. I need to know some things about you before I give you any more details about my 'interesting' self."

He nodded his head once conceding, "Fine, one question for another."

"What are you?" I blurted out without thinking. I saw the thin film of light around him quiver as if agitated. His curled his hands into fists, his dead eyes bore into mine. There was a look of absolute loathing on his face.

"What do you think I am?"

"I don't know," I whispered, suddenly afraid of him.

"Any guesses?" he spat back at me.

"Zombie?" I asked half-heartedly trying desperately to lighten the mood.

"No," Edward said it with the hint of a smile.

I plugged ahead, "Werewolf?"

"Not even close."

"Vampire?" I asked, smiling completely now.

Edward erased all traces of the playfulness that had been in his face a moment earlier, "Not in the strict definition of the word."

I dropped it, knowing that I had struck a nerve somehow. We both went back to our work in silence. It was only after we had finished the lab and were cleaning up that I dared to speak to him again.

"Hey Edward, you still have one question to ask, you know?"

He pursed his lips into a tight smile, "I think I'll save mine."

I nodded twice—the second time by accident a minute later. Could I be any more dork-ish? We parted ways at the student landing lot, after walking there in complete silence. I got into my hover car, not even responding to the obnoxiously loud revving of its ancient engine. Try as I might, I could not stop thinking of him. Of Edward; of the way he had stared at me almost in sorrow when I had guessed vampire; of his deep, unfathomable, eyes, bleak and dead as always; of how I had felt a shiver shoot up my spine when he had called me a woman.

**Sorry for the bridge chapter before I get on to trying to tell you what the Cullens actually are in my version of the story. There is going to have to be one other bridge chapter between now and when you all find out. Sorry! But I recently re-watched Twilight and was struck by how badly these two crucial scenes were done, so of course I had to rewrite them in my fanfic. Please, please review and tell me what you think. Do you think that Edward and Bella's relationship should start picking up speed, or should I come at it from a different angle? **

**Thanks for being so patient with me, I've had a pretty hectic couple of weeks but I have a chapter on the back-burner to be released this weekend!**


	11. An Isotope to Remember

*Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Stephanie Meyer, except the sci-fi stuff. That's all mine.

**An Isotope to Remember**

_ "Hey Bella?" Edward leaned over and spoke in my ear, breaking what little concentration I had listening to Mr. Banner's lecture on the evolutionary benefits of coeloms (essentially cavities within the body used to cushion organs). I turned to look at him, unable to keep from smiling. I love the way my name sounds on his lips. Is that sad? I ask myself. _

_ "Yes," I say back (both in answer to his question and my own)._

_ "I was wondering," Edward murmured in that quiet way of his. "Do you maybe want to grab a coffee sometime?"_

_ I felt my lungs collapse. Oh God, he asked me out! I tried to quell the butterflies summersaulting in my stomach as I leaned toward him._

_ "Rain check, Edward? I have a ton to do this week," I hear myself whisper. The bell rings just then, saving me from looking at the hurt expression on his face. I gather my stuff in my arms and waltz out of the room, without dropping or tripping over anything. I even sway my hips a little as I leave him behind at the table. Glancing quickly over my shoulder I saw his perfect face looking stunned, his eyes widened in incredulity. I smile; for once, I am the one in control._

I knew it was a dream as soon as I woke up; I'm just not that graceful even on good days. I got dressed quickly, throwing on whatever was clean. Charlie was waiting downstairs.

"Morning Dad."

"Morning. There's coffee on the counter for you," Charlie said dismissively.

"Mmm, thanks," I immediately gravitate the cup of caffeine, clearly it was beckoning me to it. I sit down at the table across from Charlie, coffee in hand.

"So kiddo, what's on the agenda today," he asked over his cereal.

"Um, school."

Charlie grumbled something unintelligible.

"Sorry, what Dad?"

"I said you'll have to Conference your mom."

"What? Why?" I demanded. This was not something I wanted to deal with at (I checked the red digital numbers of our kitchen clock) 7:20 on a Thursday morning.

"She just wants to check up on you. Hasn't heard from you in a while," Charlie said it cautiously.

"Can I do it when I come home from school?"

"Best to call her now."

"Now?"

"Yes."

"But why?" I whined. I love Renee, don't get me wrong but she is definitely the kind of person you wait to deal with until the afternoon. After dinner, is even preferable.

"Because," Charlie pointed his spoon at me, "your mother Conferenced me a half an hour ago asking me to tell you. And she threatened to Conference _me_ on the hour every hour until you Conferenced her back."

I sighed loudly, "Fine." I drained my coffee before I walked into the living room to find the Conference Simulator.

"Welcome to the Conference Simulator. Please state which party you would like to reach," the mechanical voice purred in my ear after I had stepped into the Conference pod.

"Renee."

"Conferencing Rhonda," the mechanical voice intoned. I ran a hand through my hair, thoroughly frustrated. I hate technology.

"Hello? Charlie?" a woman's voice answered.

"Hi, this is Bella, Charlie's daughter," I responded wearily. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to Conference you this early, I was trying to reach my mom."

I heard the woman laugh, "That's alright, darling. Think nothing of it."

"Um, well, thanks and sorry."

"Not a problem, dearie," Rhonda chuckled before breaking the connection.

"Would you like to place another call?" the mechanical voice of the Conferencer inquired tonelessly.

"Yes."

"Which party would you like to Conference?"

"Re-nee" I annunciated each syllable this time.

"Please hold until your party is reached," came the mechanic voice.

"Hello?" It was Rhonda.

"Hey Rhonda, it's me again."

"Bella?" Rhonda asked. I'm fairly certain annoyance colored her tone, if only slightly.

"I'm sorry, Charlie has this dinosaur Conferencer. It's a little hard of hearing," I joked half-heartedly.

"Don't you worry about it. Third times the charm, right?"

I couldn't help laughing at her sarcasm, "Yes Ma'am." I ended the call, breaking the telepathic connection. I had to wait before trying again, I was laughing so hard. Frustration does weird things to you. I mean honestly, nothing was funny about this situation.

"Would you like to place another call," the Conferencer's mechanical voice droned overhead.

"Yes."

"Which party would you like to Conference?"

"RE-NEE," I practically screamed.

"Please hold until your party is reached."

I settled back into the seat of the Conferencer pod, bracing myself for my conversation with Renee.

"Bella, is that you?" Shit.

"Yes," I said guiltily.

"I'll be sure to tell Charlie to get a new Conferencer," Rhonda said wearily before hanging up on me. I pulled off the Conferencer headsets in utter frustration, not even bothering to place them back on the wall of the pod. I waited, seething with impatience as pod took its sweet time opening the hatch so I could step out.

I marched into the kitchen where Charlie was cleaning up the breakfast dishes.

"The Conference Simulator is broken," I announced angrily. Charlie turned around in surprise.

"I'll look into it. Okay Bells?"

"Yeah, fine. Whatever," I stalked out of the kitchen frustrated, only to return a couple of seconds later. "Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Who's Rhonda?"

"The Deputy Police Chief. Why?"

Of course she is, I fumed to myself. Instead I answered gruffly, "No reason."

* * *

Guess when my loving mother decided to Conference me? Spanish class. Probably would have gotten away with it too had it not been for those meddling kids… Just kidding, I've always wanted to say that inexplicably cheesy line. Throwback to my Scooby-Doo watching childhood, I guess. But seriously, I probably would have gotten away with it had I not said, "I tried but the Conferencer just didn't work this morning" out loud.

"Signora Swan?" Mr. Molina asked me.

"Si?" I tried to act like I was innocent. It didn't work.

"Con quién es usted que habla?" (Who are you talking to?)

"Mi madre," I answered with a sigh.

Yes, Spanish that day was…how do you say it? Mucha diversión.

* * *

My eyes immediately locked onto the empty seat at my biology table. Edward wasn't in class today. Weird, I could have sworn I saw him at lunch. No—I did a little internal gasp—golden boy did not just skip class, did he? I half-heartedly glanced out of the window expecting to see a steady flurry of frantic wings as they tried to keep a pink pig afloat, but to no avail. I sighed heavily and sat down alone at my biology table. I felt abandoned…everyone else had a partner to pawn off their lab work to.

"Good afternoon class," Mr. Banner droned.

There were mumbles of greetings as the class reluctantly settled down, waiting for the lab instructions.

"Today, we have an exciting lab ahead of us!" _Enter groan here_. I mean seriously, was he even aware that "exciting lab" was a laughable oxymoron. Sort of like jumbo shrimp…jum-bo shr-imp, I stress every syllable, savoring the sheer absurdity of the phrase. Jumbo is a weird word. I forced myself to pay attention to Mr. Banner again.

"Essentially, we will be tracking the isotope, which remember is slightly radioactive, through the respiratory tract of the mouse. Perfectly harmless for both the mouse and you all," Mr. Banner assured us with a nervous chuckle. I tried to give an encouraging smile, the poor man was probably anxious enough as it is. Radioactivity, however slight, is not something you just play around with. Humans had figured that out after the last Global War.

Chairs scraped across the floor, papers shuffled and students began talking as we began the lab. First we had to destabilize the compound enough so that it became radioactive. Do I know what I was doing? No. Did I understand the scientific properties behind the isotope? Absolutely not. Did I manage to somehow successfully initiate radioactivity? No, actually I did not. Biology was never my forte. _Edward would know how to do _it, I thought miserably. Eventually Mr. Banner must have realized how dismally I was failing and had to walk over to help me. At least Mike Newton didn't quite know what was going on either—that definitely made it marginally less embarrassing.

After the entire class had achieved a radioactive isotope we had to wait a couple of minutes for it to stabilize enough before exposing the mouse to it. I swear I was fine. But then it started getting warmer. I could feel my throat drying out. Was nobody else feeling this? Why was it so hot? But there was Angela laughing along with Eric at Mike's joke. What was that? Small dots of light were shimmering in and out of my vision. Tiny iridescent drops of white, yellow, magenta, blue swarmed around the lab tables. I can't see! God, I can't see!

My hand shot up, "Mr. Banner?" My throat was on fire. "I think I need to be excused." I barely saw him nod his head. I grabbed my binder quickly, hurrying out of the room. It was too hot—too hot to even move. I kept one hand on the row of lockers as I tried to walk to the student landing lot. I need air, it's just so damn hot! I saw in flashes. One moment I'd see the empty hallway, the next swirls of color clouded my eyesight. _I need to get out of this building, I need air_, I kept repeating to myself. After what seemed like an hour, I felt (rather than saw) my hand clutch the handle of the school's front door. I felt nauseous, oh God. Yanking the door open I pulled myself into the crisp, continually dank air. I tried to walk forward. I only managed two steps before my legs buckled beneath me. But I never hit the ground.

"I have you, Bella. I have you, I won't let go," Edward was speaking softly and rapidly in my ear.

"Edward," my voice sounded like paper. My throat was still on fire.

"Yes?"

"I can't see you." And I couldn't, my entire vision succumbed to an overwhelming whiteness. I slipped into unconsciousness a breath later.

**

* * *

**

**So sorry for the confusion. I don't know what went wonky with my account last night. Thanks so much for all of your patience, clearly the technology gods are angry with me for some reason.**

**Thank you so much to RussianRoulette, who is an avid reviewer: I smile every time I read one of your reviews. And also a special thank you to my friends Baker and Illani for really pushing me to update this chapter and for convincing me that two additional chapters need to go up by Monday night, you guys are awesome. **

**As always please review, I'll try as much as possible to incorporate any and all suggestions you might have!**


	12. Femme Fatale

*Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Stephanie Meyer except my original ideas.

**Femme Fatale**

I blinked once, then a second time. Edward was looking down at me intently, I responded by raising my eyebrow quizzically. He just laughed. "You fainted, Bella," he said by way of explanation. "We are headed to the nurse's office right now."

"That's not possible," I crossed my hands over my chest. "I'm not walking." I felt Edward stop moving and his chest rumble with laughter. Wait. No, he did not just…there was no way he was… "You're carrying me?" I managed to splutter.

He nodded, "Which diet are you on? It's working for you."

Was he joking? "None, I'm on this au naturel kick at the moment."

He broke into a smile and then (get this) started walking again. "Edward," I said pointedly.

"Yes, Bella?" _I cannot believe he is trying to act innocent!_

"Put me down."

"I simply cannot do that I am afraid?"

"_Please_ put me down."

"Nope." Good Lord, he was absolutely cheerful about the whole ordeal.

"Why not?" I demanded, trying to squirm out of his arms.

"As a gentleman, I have a moral obligation to get you to the nurse safely. And it is clear that walking is not a safe option for you," Edward looked at me mischievously as I continued to wrestle against him. I tried flailing my legs, wiggling my arms, the whole shebang—but no, he was holding me too tightly for me to truly do anything of consequence.

"You look ridiculous," he informed me matter-of-factly. _Gee, thanks Edward_, I thought as I tried futilely to free myself. After a couple more failed attempts, I finally relaxed against his chest.

"Edward?"

"Hmm?"

"What do you bench press? Like 220? I was giving it a good go," I asked incredulously. I mean seriously, he hadn't even been fazed when I had tried to remove myself from his arms.

"I don't bench press. I prefer running."

"Oh." I mean, what else do you say to that? Well, golly, then do you just naturally have super-strength? We lapsed into a comfortable silence. His breathing was reassuring, steady. I couldn't help but think that I fit perfectly into his arms. After a few moments I suddenly asked, "Why are you always around?"

"Sorry?"

"Every time, I'm in any sort of trouble you're always there. Without fail. I mean, I'm not usually a damsel in distress but the two times I have been — you were always right there... You always manage to get to me just in time. Not that I'm not grateful, I am. I'm just beginning to think there may be more than coincidence here." I spoke breathlessly, afraid that if I took a breath, I wouldn't be able to continue. I felt him stiffen. I looked up expecting to see his mouth drawn in that thin line that told me the subject was no longer open for discussion. Instead, he gave me a sad smile, gazing down at me with his deep, expressionless eyes.

"What can I say? You're my own femme fatale, Bella." He gently put me down, opened the glass door that was somehow right in front of us, and ushered me into the school's medical building. I was acutely aware of his hand pressing on the small of my back as he steered me toward the nurse behind the counter, as I tried to understand what Edward had meant.

* * *

_"There's a group of us going to La Push, this weekend," I said hesitantly, unsure of his answer._

_He flashed me a smile. "Somehow, I can't seem to picture you in a diving suit."_

_"Oh, I won't be diving. God, no, I'd kill myself," my words fumbled over each other as my cheeks burned bright red. Diving suits hugged _every_ contour of your body, like a second skin, so the diver could be insulated but still maintain maximum mobility. Next to going nude, a diving suit was the single most revealing piece of clothing in the world—and Edward had just tried to picture me in one! "I'll just be going to look at the bio-pools," I finished lamely, desperately trying not to show how much I had been affected by his off-hand comment. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him raise an eyebrow._

_"As much as I would love to indulge myself with your company, going to La Push is not the best idea for me," Edward said._

_"Why not?"_

_"My family had a disagreement with some of the families on the reservation. I think it best not to open old wounds," he said it with a sense of cold finality._

I was peeling the potatoes for dinner while I mulled over the conversation that I had with Edward in the hover car as he drove me home. What did he mean "old wounds"? Admittedly, I did not truly know the members of Edward's family other than his father, Carlisle, but I could not wrap my head around what possible disagreement the Cullens could be capable of having. What possible connection could Edward's family have with the reservation folk? I was, as Edward would say, quite flabbergasted by the whole affair. And then there was the whole diving suit comment…

I quickly finished preparing for dinner, tossed the potatoes into the SteamOven® and climbed the stairs to my bedroom to begin my homework. I even briefly moped about being such a goody too-shoes, coming home directly from school, saying a very chaste goodbye to a guy outside my door, getting dinner ready, and then promptly beginning my indescribably boring homework. Look at me the all-American domestic goddess! I mentally berated myself after realizing that my history teacher would be proud—remembering some horrible catchphrase from two thousand years ago.

Thankfully, I was saved from myself by the sound of Charlie's gruff voice as he tried to muffle his curse words. With nothing else to do but procrastinate, I naturally bounded out of my room and down the stairs with unparalleled enthusiasm. (Ugh, Lord, did I really just think that? I need to get out more; I'm starting to talk like Edward.)

I stumbled upon Charlie fiddling with some mechanical bits strewn over the living room floor. He let out an exasperated grunt, "Damn machines!"

"Dad?"

Charlie looked up, a lopsided smile beginning on his face, "Sorry Bells, didn't see you there."

I matched his grin with an easy one of my own, "Where did you get that? I didn't hear anything being delivered to the house."

"That," Charlie said, dropping the machine parts to the floor and standing up, "is because I brought it in myself, no delivery necessary. Waste of money, if you can do it yourself, I always say."

"Um, do you need any help?" I asked, scanning the den. It was littered with cogs, wires, hinges, screws, and other miscellaneous pieces of machinery.

"Sure, thanks Bells."

"No problem. Where's the instruction manual?"

Charlie glanced at me, comically confused, "It comes with one of those?"

I rolled my eyes and set about finding the instructions, praying that when I did find it, it would be written in plain English. I cannot tell you the amount of times the all-important "How to Do It" pamphlet was either in confusing pictures or in some Nordic language. Honestly, how many people actually speak Swedish, or Danish?

"Aha, here it is," I said triumphantly after lifting it out of the Styrofoam pecans (apparently Styrofoam _peanuts_ became a controversial phrase after the infamous Peanut Lynching of '53). Wait a minute—this couldn't possibly be a... "Dad?"

"Hmm?"

"What are we trying to build, again?"

"Our new Conference Simulator."

Oh. I hadn't quite expected Charlie to go out and buy one so fast. "Thanks for buying it. Mom will be pleased."

"I didn't buy it. In fact, if it were up to me, I wouldn't have ever replaced it."

"Well then who—?"

"It was a birthday bonus—I think that's what they called it anyway."

"From the station?" I asked hesitantly, afraid I already knew the answer. Turns out, I did know.

"No, Rhonda gave it to me." I had to laugh, in spite of myself. When I finally was able to control myself, I turned to Charlie and suggested that perhaps, she should be the first person we Conference. After all, I couldn't think of any other way to christen the machine.

* * *

**Sorry I was not able to post on Monday. I am a voracious reader and couldn't tear myself away from a book! I want to rework and re-edit the next chapter because I feel that it needs a little extra oomph, for lack of a better SAT word. However, it should be up by this Friday. **

**As always please, please review!**


	13. Weather and Relationships

*Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight and all of its characters

**Weather and Relationships**

If, in Forks, you find yourself suddenly lacking in conversation, the trick is to talk about the weather. I kid you not. Locals take to talking about the weather like a fire takes to kindling—rather warmly. I discovered this little gem of information on Saturday…while trying to sustain a conversation with Mike Newton.

"So, Bella, you ready for La Push?"

_Not really_. "Yeah, it'll be fun," I brushed off the question indifferently.

Mike smiled suddenly. It was sweet how the grin lit up his entire face. "So, Bella?"

"Hmm?"

His cheeks reddened a little as he hurriedly asked, "Will you be diving with us? Did you bring a suit?"

What is with people asking me about diving? Do I look like I have any inclination _at all_ to go diving and discover God knows what creepy, crawly, aquatic life? And, really, do I seem like the type of person to bare all and expose myself with a suit that fits _every_ contour of my body? No, one of my most wonderful qualities is that I have enough shame to stay away from anything remotely form-fitting. It is also probably the reason Charlie and I get along so well. I think he half expects to die only after I've officially obtained spinster-hood. Knowing Charlie, it's not unlikely that he'll give me a cat in his will, just to reinforce the stereotype. I can just imagine the conversations teenagers will have about me in forty years.

_See that old house, Johnny?_

_Yeah, what about it?_

_Don't you know who lives in there? It's that old broad who never got married. Never had a date for that matter. _

_Not even one?_

_Not even one, Johnny. And you know what else? Her Pa just passed away and left her a cat. Can you believe it? Her old man left her a f***ing cat! What a riot! That man had a sense of humor off duty, I hear. I always thought it was funny that she didn't invest in birds. You know cuz her name is Ms. Swan._

I was brought back to the present by Mike waving his hand in front of my face. "Sorry," I said. "No, I want to go see the bio-pools so I don't think I'm going to go diving."

Mike clapped his hands together and began rocking on the balls of his feet, clearly uncomfortable with the new silence, "So, Bella."

What? That's all he could come up with? "So, Mike," I decided to play along.

"So, Bella." Was he mocking me? How could he not see how annoying this was?

"I hate the weather here," I blurted, desperate to maintain some semblance of a conversation.

"Bella, what are you talking about? This is beautiful weather!"

I stared at him in complete shock, unsure if he was serious or not. Apparently he was because he continued enthusiastically.

"Look there, see that green?" Well Mike, I was tempted to say, there's green all over the damn place. This is Forks—is there any other color I'd be seeing? But I nodded just to appease him. He continued unfazed, "It's beautiful. I don't know it just seems like it's so full of life, like the earth is healing after all these years, you know. And then you feel the rain, and there's something magical about it. Kind of seems like natural, or something. I know you come from a big Biodome and everything, but we Forksons take pride in our rain. Might not be the cleanest, and it might be green but it's natural through and through. This is how it's supposed to rain in the real world. But this right here," he gestured at the disgusting green mist lightly falling around us. "This is my favorite weather. Mist is so romantic don't you think?" He looked over at me expectantly. Oh no! Oh, no, no, no, no. Well, I do happen to be a distinguished kill-joy. I mentally cracked my knuckles, got the kinks out of my neck and prepared to cut off this conversation right here, right now.

"I have to disagree with you, Mike. I don't know what it is—could be my Phoenix upbringing—but I'm turned on by sunny days." He stared at me, mouth completely agape. I have to admit I surprised myself (where did all that shame go?). But I didn't wait for him to respond; I saw Jessica and Angela coming around the corner and ran off into the rainy mist.

* * *

"Hey Jess, hi Ang," I greeted both friends in turn after I had reached them. Angela gave me a quick hello but Jessica dived right into conversation.

"Were you just talking to Mike, Bella? Omigosh, doesn't he look totally cute standing there in his adorable yellow protection suit? He hates it, but I think it makes him look like a cute little duck!"

I snorted, "A cute little duck? If you want him to go out with you, never tell him that. Poor guy is already self-conscious enough."

Jessica pouted but Angela laughed with me. We were both soon silenced by a cold glare from Jessica.

"How can you even be sure it's him," Angela asked. "I mean, he's kind of far away, and the mist isn't helping."

"No, it's him," Jessica said without hesitation. "Besides, isn't it like totally romantic?"

"Sorry?" What was she talking about? The duck thing?

"The mist," Jessica explained. "He's standing there all alone—a lone figure in the mist."

"He looks like he could use some company," I suggested, trying to keep a straight face.

"Totally. I'll see you at the beach." And with that, Jessica bounded off toward the cute, little duck standing alone in the mist. Angela and I took one look at each other and started laughing. It felt great to laugh; I hadn't truly done that in a while.

"Ah," Angela wiped tears from her eyes, "She's been reading romance novels lately."

"Yeah, that would explain the 'lone figure in the mist' bit," I chuckled as an afterthought.

"Are you planning on diving or checking out the bio-pools?"

"Just the bio-pools," I said automatically.

"Me too."

"Hey guys," Eric shouted as he jogged toward us. I murmured a quick hey. Angela responded more enthusiastically. Hmm, that was interesting.

"We're loading up the vans now," Eric said pointing at the two large hover cars some fifty yards off. "You guys better go and get a seat, while I round up the rest of the crew."

"Eric?" Angela called as he started to jog off. He stopped and turned around to face us.

"Yeah?"

"Want us to save you a seat?" she asked.

"Yeah, thanks, that'd be cool," Eric gave Angela the thumbs-up before jogging toward another group of kids clustered under a spruce tree.

"Hey Angela, when did that happen?" I asked as we began walking toward the hover cars.

"Eric?" She blushed behind her glasses. "I don't know. I'm still trying to figure it out."

I kept bugging her about it until we got close to the hover cars. Then she playfully punched my shoulder and told me to stop talking about it because (and I quote) "Nobody knows yet".

The ride to La Push was fairly monotonous. Angela chatted with Eric about...well, I'm not quite sure, I wasn't paying attention. Jessica was debating the moods that each of the seven different types of rainy in Forks, conjured up with Mike. Once or twice, Mike tried to get me invested in that conversation but he soon stopped asking me when it was clear I didn't really care if a heavy thunderstorm made people feel awed, terrified, or a sense of insignificance when confronted with the power of nature. I enjoyed staring out of the window of the hover car, watching the scenery whiz by. If I stared outside, to the front of the hover car, it seemed as though it would take forever to reach the tree, or the sign, or whatever object we were coming up on. But when I looked to the side, I couldn't distinguish between the leaves of one tree or the next, everything passed by so quickly. That was how I felt with Edward—that when I was with him, it was all one confusing blur that passed so quickly my brain didn't have time to register all of it properly, but when I wasn't it seemed like time stretched on painfully until I could reach him.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew it wasn't healthy, wasn't normal, this fixation on Edward. I knew that at my age, I should be busy stressing over pimples, and school work, and the upcoming college process. I wasn't supposed to be trying to find ways to have a serious, long-term relationship, but that was exactly what I wanted. I wanted to always have Edward with me. I wanted to wake up in the morning and feel the weight of him next to me. I wanted to roll over and see that crooked smile of his just for me. I wanted him to meet Charlie and Renee, and even to some extent, Phil. But at the same time, I wanted nothing more than to have him step out of my life for good. I resented that he had this much influence over me. I measured my days, not by hours or minutes like most people, but around how much he spoke to me. I saw him in my dreams. I was attached to him, in a way I could not explain, in a way I could not understand. It was as if his mere presence haunted me, night and day. He was everywhere. If I wasn't seeing him in the flesh, I was seeing a shadow of him in my mind. I yearned for him to call my name, to smile at me. I yearned for his wit and sarcasm, and I didn't care if it was directed at me or not. I even yearned for his silence, because at least then it meant I was close to him. And there was a part of me that hated him for it. I had known him, for what? Four months? Yet he had me in a stranglehold. I wanted to be his equal, wanted to share my life with his...but I was more like a slave. He was master of my thoughts and indirectly to my actions. My entire life I had been free, but in four months he had put me in a cage. The infuriating thing about it was that I was happy in my prison if it meant I'd see his smile directed at me.

I was at war with myself. There was always this relentless push-pull in my mind when it came to Edward. Love him, or hate him; and I was constantly see-sawing between the two.

* * *

**Sorry, I was late posting. Not that it's an excuse but I was busy trying to edit, and re-edit this chapter to make it as close to perfect as it's going to get. This chapter was going to be about 4000-5000 words so I decided to make it two chapters. The next chapter is where you'll find out what Edward is…according to an old Quileute legend, of course. As always, please review!**


	14. Embers

*Stephanie Meyer owns all.

**Embers**

La Push is one of the only truly beautiful, natural places in the world. There's a wonderful history about the place that seemed almost palpable as I stepped out of the crowded hover car. The Quileute tribe, a group of indigenous peoples, had once prospered on the west coast of the United States. Over time, they were confined to La Push reservation, courtesy of white men's politics. The ironic thing about the whole situation was that after the Gassings of World War III, a direct result of bad politicking, those on the reservation suffered minimal damage when compared to Washington D.C. which was virtually obliterated. Of course, residents of La Push were subject to radiation from the San Francisco Gassing and all of its side effects (cancer, birth defects, mental incapacitation etc.), but the Quileute people showed surprising resilience. Now, nearly a millennia after the Treaty of Urbino, the population had stabilized, and the reservation was cleaned up. And Forks had absolutely nothing on La Push.

La Push seemed to pulsate with life. Trees shot proudly up into the sky, so different from the trees in Forks that tilted over, boughs sweeping the ground. But the beach was La Push's greatest asset. A jagged cliff rose out of the grey, choppy water; a wooden jetty bobbed up and down with the waves; a beige blanket of sand covered the shoreline; but the water…the water was beautiful. White foamy caps topped the incoming waves as they glided languidly to the shore.

"Bella?" Angela disrupted my thoughts.

"Yeah?"

"A couple of us were going to head down to the bio-pools. Are you coming?"

I gave a quick nod and fell into step beside her.

* * *

_Thwack!_ Oww.

"Holy Smokes!" I muttered holding my forehead in my hands. Eric had dropped his hold on the branch ahead of me and it had swung around and hit me square in the forehead. He didn't even break stride; he was too busy talking to Angela. _That is definitely going to bruise_, I thought as I carefully rubbed my forehead. _Ow._ And this was after already tripping twice on the hike back from the bio-pools.

The bio-pools were breathtaking. They were small inlets into the land positively teeming with aquatic life. The La Push bio-pools were extraordinary for their clear water—you could see all the way to the bottom!—a welcome change from most bio-pools that still maintained an opaque film that seemed to settle on the top of them because of pollution. And as far as I could see, all of the little fishes had two eyes, two fins and a tail, which was good because when Renee took me to see the Flagstaff bio-pools I could see things with four eyes, fins in all the wrong places and glowing skin. For all intents and purposes, the earth was still recovering from the Gassings.

I staggered out of the forest as the trail led me closer to a clearing where kids had begun to converge around a campfire. _No more branches in the face for me_, I thought happily as I made my way over to the kids from Forks High, who were talking animatedly with teens from the reservation. I took a seat next to Angela. She turned to face me.

"So, where have you been?"

"Walking back from the bio-pools," I said easily. "I'm not as fast as the rest of you natives, and I happen to be injury prone."

"Sorry, had I known I would have walked with you."

"Not a big deal," I shrugged. It wasn't really an issue.

"I didn't know Eric talked so much! I was trying to get out of the woods as fast as I could," Angela looked at me conspiratorially.

"Eric, talking too much? Never," I smiled. Eric was a known chatterbox.

Angela laughed, "Yes!"

"Did you know he let a branch swing back and hit me?"

Angela gasped, "No! Where did it hit you?"

"Right in the middle of my forehead!" Angela shook with laughter. "You don't see it?"

"See what?" She could hardly talk through her giggles. No doubt the thought of me getting a branch to the face was almost cartoonish in its hilarity.

"The bruise! Right here," I pointed to my forehead.

Angela gave it a quick look, "There's nothing there."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm positive."

"Because that branch nearly knocked me out."

She looked at me cautiously, like she wasn't sure if I was joking with her or not. Once I smiled it was all over. We both dissolved into peals of laughter that subsided only after sitting down to eat lunch.

By the time the food had disappeared, several of the teenagers had already headed out to check out the bio-pools. A few had even gone for a second round of diving. Angela had left with the first group, trailing Eric. I had to chuckle to myself, she could make jokes about him all she wanted but Angela definitely had a thing for him. One of the La Push kids came to sit next to me after Angela had vacated her seat.

"Hey Bella. I'm Billy's kid, remember?" He said by way of explanation.

"Right, I remember. Jacob right?"

"Just Jake. So, how's Forks treating ya?"

I sighed, "Apparently I'm in trouble." Jacob raised his eyebrow quizzically. "I keep getting punished by the weather."

He laughed easily, "Yeah, the weather sucks. How's the hover car by the way?"

"Awesome. No, really I like it. I'm already used to the um, engine, but I'm getting a heater installed next week—psyched about that."

"You mean the engine that sounds like someone's repeatedly stabbing a buffalo?"

I answered with a laugh, "Yeah, that one." Jacob sort of reminded me of Angela—you didn't have to work at keeping up a conversation, it just happened naturally. It was then that Lauren (an exceedingly annoying girl that sat at our lunch table in school) decided to shout across the campfire.

"Hey Bella, I thought you didn't know any of the rez kids." I resented her calling Jacob a _rez kid_, like he was any different from us. Jake, however, didn't seem like he noticed. He answered back with a relaxed laugh.

"We've known each other since I was in the cradle."

Lauren lifted her eyebrows, "Lovely. Bella, where's Edward? I figured since you guys seemed to be getting closer and all, you might have at least invited him."

Woah, aggressive much? Though I have to hand it to Lauren. With two sentences, she dismissed Jacob, added in the Edward bit for his benefit (not that anything was happening between us anyway), and shrewdly pointed out my floundering and unpredictable relationship with Edward. Bravo, Lauren. You have again managed to be a conniving little—

"Is this the Cullens?" An older La Push teenager demanded, interrupting my interior rant.

Lauren flicked her gaze toward the speaker, annoyed. "You know them?"

"The Cullens don't come here." * The authority in his voice shut down any further questions. Lauren turned back to Tyler with a nonchalant "Whatever".

"Who's that?" I asked Jacob quietly.

"Sam," he muttered back.

_The Cullens don't come here_. There was something off about that statement. I just couldn't quite put my finger on what it was exactly. There was too much finality for it to be as simple and straightforward as Sam had made it sound. No, there had to be something behind the obvious message. I snuck a glance at Jacob. He was staring into the flames of the campfire. The light played on his features nicely, highlighting his russet-toned skin, his high cheekbones. He must have seen me staring at him because he turned toward me and smiled. He had beautiful, dark eyes…

Egad! I wanted to cry out as the metaphorical light bulb lit up over my head. Sam wouldn't elaborate on the Cullens but I'm banking Jacob will if I prod him a little in the right direction. I returned his smile warmly and tried to make my voice seem velvety, mimicking Edward's speech.

"I still haven't gotten a chance to see the beach yet," I flicked my eyes towards the beach suggestively.

"I could take you down, if you want," Jacob flashed an unsteady smile my way. I simply nodded my head, then got up to follow him toward the shoreline.

"When's Billy coming down to Forks for the next game?"

Jacob shrugged, "Not sure. I know that there's some sort of championship game in three weeks though, so he'll definitely be knocking on your door then, if not before that."

"Maybe you should come up with him," I suggested in what I hoped to be an invitational way.

Jacob grinned, "Sure, it'd be fun to hang out. Catch up on the lost years."

I laughed, noticing how easy it was just to be with him. It was at that moment that I lost my footing. I braced myself for the inevitable fall but it never came. Jacob caught me firmly, steadying me.

My cheeks flushed, "Sorry, I'm just _really _clumsy. This happens all the time."

"Don't worry about it. It's not often I can rescue a damsel in distress."

I smiled wanly, aware that he still had his hands resting lightly on my arms. Well, if this was ever the time to press the advantage…

"Hey Jake, what was Sam saying about the Cullens?"

I felt his arms drop to his sides, "They're not allowed to come on the reservation." Then he smiled sheepishly, "I'm pretty sure I just broke tribal law with that slip."

"My lips are sealed," I promised him with a smile.

"Wanna hear a scary story?" his voice lowering to heighten the effect.

"Only if it's coming from you," I internally cringed at my attempt at flirting. Did I really just say that? Jacob led me to a rocky outcrop, oblivious to my internal reprimands. He waited a few moments for me to get situated before he began.

"Ever heard the Quileute legends before?" He asked, his voice getting huskier.

"Never," I said back trying my best to make the word as seductive as possible.

"There are a few really good ones but the scariest is of the Sun Children."

I could feel myself being pulled into his voice. Jacob was a good storyteller. "The Sun Children?"

He nodded slowly, "The Sun Children are ancient, but if the legends hold true, there have been far more recent interactions between the Sun Children and the Sons of the Moon—that's the Quileute's by the way. It's one of the reasons our tribe associates itself with wolves, they are the original moon worshippers according to legend. The Gassings started over two millennia ago, and lasted for just under a thousand years, right?"

"Yes," I said, trying to disguise my impatience.

"Well, the radiation did more than kill people. The story goes that there were those who survived the Gassings; those who were directly exposed to the radiation; those who should have died but somehow didn't. Something happened to their DNA, a mutation that allowed them to absorb the radiation into their bodies, into each of their cells. The radiation gave them the ability to manipulate time, to have unnaturally long lives. Not immortality per se, but radiation itself has a long life—over a million years. But it did terrible things to their bodies. The human body is not designed to hold that much radiation; it can't sustain itself. Their humanity began to wear away, consumed by the radiation. The Sun Children desperately searched for a solution, and one day they found it. They needed more human DNA to replace what the radiation had warped and the easiest way to get it was through blood. And so they became blood-suckers, feeding off of the blood of innocents, to maintain whatever shreds of their humanity they had left. Our tribe calls them Embers because you can always tell them apart from humans by the way they faintly glow—they retain some of the Sun's rays, only its muted—like embers are evidence a fire existed long after the flames have gone out."

"How do the Quileute's fit into all of this?" I asked in a whisper.

"We are called the People of the Moon because we stood in direct opposition to these monsters. My ancestor created a vaccine of sorts, to give to the Quileute people. It gave us immunity to the radiation. More importantly, it allowed us to transform into an avenger."

"Who do you avenge?" I murmured quietly, afraid of the answer as much as I was afraid of the dark look that came over Jacob's face when he answered me.

"We avenge the innocent. We avenge the deaths of those who died at the hands of those abominations. You must remember that the Quileutes have always cherished our connection to the Earth. The Embers signify everything that is unnatural. The Earth nourishes itself with the waters of rain, but the Embers nourish themselves on blood, and in so doing they must take another's life. That is not supposed to be the way of life, and the Quileutes have taken it upon themselves to restore what has been before the existence of the Embers."

"But what do the Cullens have to do with any of this? Are they Embers?" I felt a tingling sensation in the pit of my stomach, even as I realized the truth of it. Jacob raised one eyebrow as a smile tugged on his lips.

"According to legend the Cullens lived in Forks before; three, four generations ago. My great-grandfather signed a treaty with them because he saw they were different. They are forbidden to enter our land, and we are forbidden to hunt them down. Now the Cullens are back…and they haven't aged a day."

"How are they different?" I prodded Jacob.

"Apparently they do not hunt humans. Animals usually do the trick." Jacob's hint of a smile turned into an all out grin that lit up his entire face, "C'mon Bella, it's just an old story. Most of us don't believe any of it."

I smiled unsteadily. _Just a story?_ "You're just a really good storyteller, that's all. See, I'm getting shivers."

Both of us looked up at the same time when we heard the sound of someone giggling. Jessica and Mike were headed towards us. Jacob turned to me almost apologetically.

"I guess this is goodbye until the next big Swamp Ball match on Charlie's big screen then."

I laughed easily, "Yeah. Listen, when you're up in Forks give me a call, we can hang out."

"Cool."

"Hey Bella," Mike called out. "We're headed back, there's a storm coming."

I glanced upward. Sure enough, dark clouds were gathering and the wind was picking up too. I said a quick goodbye to Jacob then headed back toward the hover cars with Mike and Jessica. I had an unsettling feeling in the pit of my stomach from Jacob's story. I wanted desperately to believe him when he declared it bogus, but something nagging at the corner of my brain was stopping me from casting it aside as just another scary story. In the end, I decided to put thinking about it on hold. I feigned sleep on the way home so no one would try talking to me. I paid very close attention to my breathing. In, out, in, out. Not once did I let thoughts of Edward settle in my mind.

* * *

**Ta-Da! I know that this chapter stuck closer to Stephanie Meyer's book than I have in a little while, but even I have to admit that she had a great set up for this to take place. This marks a great milestone for me because I have now covered 130 pages of SM Twilight! As always please review. Tell me what you think!**


	15. Conflicting Emotions

*All characters belong to Stephanie Meyer and I do not—and in no stretch of my imagination—claim to own Twilight.

**Conflicting Emotions**

I managed to make it to my room without thinking too much about what Jacob had told me. Every time a thought involving Edward popped into my head I had forced it down, busying myself in the tangible aspects of whatever was around me — counting seemed to be my preferred method of distraction. _Could what Jacob was saying actually be true?_ Focus Bella, how many green beans are on your plate? One, two, three, four…

But after I had closed the door to my bedroom, a flurry of Edward-related thoughts hounded me. I shivered as they chased me, daring me to think of them. I dove under the covers, curling myself into a pitiful ball, trying desperately to warm whichever organ had frozen over inside of me. Later I would realize I was having a panic attack, but at the moment I could only register my breathing coming in short bursts, my heart pounding twice as fast as most people would consider normal, and my head racing trying to catch up and reconcile with itself.

Was there truth in what Jacob had said to me? That was the crux of the matter. Did I believe Jacob or didn't I? Jacob didn't even believe himself; that I knew for sure. He thought the Sun Children was just one of dozens of tribal myths told around a night-time bonfire, but did I? Reasonably I knew that it was close to impossible—what the legend was proposing—I knew that if there was even the most infinitesimal chance that a select group of people directly exposed to the Gas survived because of a common and shared mutation, the side effects at least should have killed them. And even _if_ there somehow was a biological way to explain this away what where the odds I would not only end up relocating to a town with a _family_ of these…these unnatural survivors but also that I would end up falling in love with one of them? The fraction of chance that that would happen, I'd imagine must be staggeringly small. But then, if logic was telling me that Jacob's story was a load of phooey, why was I so terrified? Because I knew, if I was going to be honest with myself, that in some unhelpful emotional center of mine, I had taken this tale to heart and believed it. The problem then was not my skepticism, but my utter and complete faith in the absolute verity of the legend of the Sun Children. My breathing became steadier and my heart rate began working on returning to its normal sluggish beating as soon as I had accepted the impossible.

It was at this point of acceptance that I moved into hysterics, alternately laughing and crying at the sheer absurdity of my belief. My crush was a freak—literally, he was simply not normal—how was I supposed to deal with that? Jessica complained that Mike was a freak because he still kept a collection of "action figures" in his room, but even (and maybe) in spite of this she loved him. Edward probably resembled more of a super hero than half of whatever was in Mike's collection. Aqua-Man swim aside, here comes Radioactive Ember with his special super power of manipulating time and glowing! How could this make me love him more? He's not a gemstone where flaws are valued for giving the jewel character! He is a walking uranium rod, for goodness sake! This goes past a cutsie, awkward flaw and into crazy Area 51 shit. And even if I believed the timeline Jacob proposed (that he was created by being exposed by World War III Gassings) then Edward could be over a thousand years old! Ohmigosh, I've been fantasizing about a dinosaur! This cannot be happening. I refuse to believe that of all of the men who could have been drop-dead gorgeous and interested in me, I got the glowing, freak of nature. And yet, this is exactly what I believed. Sheer, unadulterated absurdity, I tell you.

Then a strange thing happened, I calmed down. Somehow, amidst my hysteric thought process, I had flipped a switch and suddenly I felt eerily at ease and was able to think analytically about the choice I had just made. I chose to believe Jacob's legend which meant that by extension, I had come to terms with the fact that Edward was no ordinary human being. What I did not know was how I felt about that. One thing was absolutely certain though: until I had a better idea about who or, more importantly what, Edward was I couldn't make a decision about what to do about any of it.

And so, in a fit of desperation, Google became a shining beacon of potential information in the darkness of my ignorance. How miserably Google failed me. I tried typing "Sun Children," "Embers," "radiation" into the search bar but nothing. Seventy-three thousand hits on completely irrelevant information popped up on the digital projection. The only promising lead was a small 276 page book that documented Quileute legends, and which dedicated a mere one chapter on the legend of the "Burning Embers". Why this particular website was difficult to maneuver, I have no idea, but after a frustrating fifteen minutes, I succeeded in putting "The Third Wife and Other Quileute Legends" on hold at a back-water bookstore in Port Angeles for Friday. There was nothing more I could do on the Edward front so I did the next most anti-productive thing I could think of: I Conferenced Jessica.

"Oh-Em-Gee, Bella? I didn't even know you stayed up this late on a school-night," came Jessica's twittering voice from the Conferencer headset.

I checked the red digital numbers of my clock, "Yeah 9:30pm is super late for me. Actually I was just about to jump into my PJs when I had the fabulous idea to call you and ask you about this weekend." She missed the sarcasm, unfortunately, and kept babbling on about—well actually I can't remember exactly what it was—something about her life. By the time I severed the mental connection forty minutes later I had successfully secured a hover car ride to Port Angeles on Friday.

Sleep did not come easy that night.

I fastidiously avoided Edward the next couple of days, in the cafeteria and during Biology. At first he seemed bemused, as if he was missing the punch line of one of my sarcastic remarks. But by Wednesday, Edward cornered me in the lunch room and managed to steer me to an empty table. He gracefully sat down across from me and waited patiently, his hands resting under his chin, elbows propped up on the table. I spent the first couple of minutes looking everywhere but at Edward, the cafeteria table, the mushy pasta heaped on my biodegradable tray, the holograms showing Forks on the rare sunny days that decorated the wall, even back toward the table where Jessica was talking animatedly with several agitated hand gestures.

"You know I will get you to speak with me eventually, Bella." Edward spoke softly, his words seemed oddly lyrical.

I raised my eyes to his, studying him silently. I was still able to recognize the dead look of his eyes that I had first seen four months ago. There was not even a shadow of a doubt that they portrayed an eerie element of unnaturalness. I had compared them to the eyes of a cadaver once. Yet since then I had noticed that though the eyes themselves were expressionless, his face had become easier to read. When he was frustrated, as he was now, his brow would furrow and he would unwittingly raise his left eyebrow—always his left—it was an endearing quirk I had fallen in love with. When he laughed, his eyelids would slide down halfway and tiny creases would appear at the corners of his almond-shaped eyes. And though I questioned if his eyes were truly even his, because of their peculiar abnormality, I had come to enjoy sneaking glances at their warm splash of brown.

"Bella?" Edward prodded gently.

"Yes, Edward?"

"How are you feeling today?"

"Fine thank-you."

"Fine?" Edward repeated it as if he failed to understand its meaning.

"Yes. I feel neither particularly good nor particularly bad."

Edward grinned amused, "Now I know something must be bothering you, Bella. You hardly practice politeness in pursuit of any sort of perfection."

"Sometimes you speak as if you were from a different time, Edward." I spoke slowly, trying to reconcile this new epiphany with the thought of his mind-boggling age. I could see his mouth give a slight twitch as his smile disappeared.

"Do I?"

"Maybe you just sound older," I shrugged, not because I believed it but because I could see Edward becoming more closed off, more inaccessible by the second. We lapsed into silence for another moment. He closed his eyes with a sigh as if something pained him. I continued to look at him. I mean really _look_ at him. I studied the strong contours of his jawline, the soft rise of his cheeks, his thick lashes that seemed to be giving his porcelain skin butterfly kisses now that his eyes were closed. In every way he resembled a handsome, no scratch that, godlike teenage male. Every one of his features seemed to scream evidence of his humanity, yet I could not ignore the soft filament of light that shrouded his body. I tried to consciously look at the quivering halo, but it never stayed within full view. It wavered flagrantly, shimmering in and out of my vision as if taunting me for being unable to pin it down and study it like a butterfly under a microscope.

"Bella?" Edward's voice was low as he said my name. My heart began thudding a bit louder than before. "Why have you been avoiding me?"

"I don't know," I almost whispered it, my eyes refusing to make contact with his.

Edward's voice came out strained, "Yes, you do. I know you Bella, this is calculated."

I couldn't help but wince. Sure I was known for being cautious and thinking things through but "calculated" sounds…mean… manipulative… I'm not quite sure but it definitely has a negative connotation associated with it. But those four little words, "I know you Bella," were ones that truly sent shivers down my spine. Did he know me? What have I shown of myself in our brief time together in Biology, and much more recently, lunch? And then the bigger question swam into my mind: Did I _want_ him to know me? Especially in light of what I now believed was it right, was it fair (to either of us) for him to know me like that? Then there was the flipside of the same coin: What did I really know about him? Apparently, a fair bit if I was able to divine the meaning behind his mysterious facial expressions, not to mention my knowledge of his family, his abnormality and (if it was correct) his biggest secret. Who knew more about whom? I wondered.

"Not now, Edward. I'm still trying to figure it out," I said, trying to push down the concerns rising inside of me. He gave me a forced smile, carefully putting a new façade into place. His message was clear: if I wasn't going to give anything to him, he would give nothing away about himself to me either. Edward gave me a small, two fingered salute before rising from the table, gliding through the cafeteria and leaving through the automatic doors, all in one graceful motion. I groaned, why was he just so damn hard to avoid?


	16. Unwanted Encounters

*Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight and all of its characters

**Unwanted Encounters**

It turns out that Edward is much easier to avoid when he's absent. Unfortunately, his absence made me want to seek him out even more, which meant that clearly the avoiding thing wasn't working out too well. Thursday and Friday passed without incident and without Edward—though the two are probably closely related. Dinner on Friday was a different story altogether.

"Bells," Charlie said while squirting mustard onto his hot-dog, "your mother Conferenced me today."

_Oh dear God_. "And?"

Charlie took a deep, uncomfortable sigh, shifting in his seat, "She—your mother, I mean—thinks that it's about time I had the Talk with you. She thinks you're at an age that you can handle this…uh…maturely."

"Well, I'm not. We should reconvene when…never…Dad no matter how old I am I don't think I can speak maturely with you about this."

"Now don't give me that, Isabella. I like this even less than you do but your mother has a point."

I clapped my hands over my ears, trying to block out his next words, "Not listening, I'm not listening."

He continued anyway, "You see, when a man and a woman (or I guess it could also be a man and a man or a woman and a woman for that matter, but anyhow) when they share…mutual feelings for each other and they want to take the next step in their relationship—which is only after marriage mind you—they—"

"DAD!" I interrupted with a renewed desperation, "Not during dinner! We're eating hot-dogs for goodness sake, I think I understand what sex is!"

Charlie stopped talking, looked down at his half-eaten dinner with new, disgusted eyes, and then back up to me. The awkward silence that followed was stifling. Charlie broke it a few moments later with a gruff clearing of his throat.

"I guess we can never, uh—"

"Eat hot-dogs again?" I volunteered.

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry, Dad. I know they were one of your favorites."

"S'OK, they're not really good for you anyway so I suppose you did me a favor, Bells."

We elapsed into another painful silence.

"But you know the risks, right? You know that you'll get the worse end of it, as a girl, than your partner—"

"Yes."

"And it's very hard to back out of pregnancy if—"

"Got it."

"You know, because you're mother's family is so religious and all."

"I know."

"Not to mention that several of the STD virus' have mutated with the radiation so—"

"Yep, that was covered in Health Class. And I definitely understand it, so—"

"I mean, jeez Bells, they can do some awful things to…that region, so it's best to—"

"Please stop talking."

"Officer Murray had to give a presentation on this to the high school a couple of years back. I could send it to you if you want, there were good diagrams in there and—"

"I'm a virgin," I basically yelled. I think both of us spent a solid minute examining every aspect of the dining room except each other.

Finally Charlie spoke up, "Well, that's good then."

"Good, so you can go tell Mom that we had this…chat."

"Will do."

"I'm going to head out to Port Angeles with Jessica and Angela, now," I said backing slowly out of the room.

"Alright be safe, then."

* * *

Angela and Jess commiserated with me in Jess's hover car. Angela went on to tell me

how her mother had walked into her room, handed her a list of websites and asked her to convince her father that the Talk had happened. Jessica had a much different story which I will not relate because I am trying to erase as much of it from my brain as possible. Thankfully, the conversation soon turned to which kind of dresses they were looking to buy for the Spring Formal. Jessica wanted a plunging neckline or a sexy slit to show off her leg but not both—oh no, that would be some kind of unfortunate fashion faux pas! Angela just wanted something that was cute, flattering and –gasp!— above knee length!

"So Bella," Jessica asked while maneuvering the hover car into a landing space outside the Port Angeles dress shop, "what are you looking for?"

"Nothing, I'm not going to be wearing any dresses."

"Really, Bella, that's sure to cause a stir," Angela smirked.

"No, I mean, I'm not going so I don't really need to buy a dress."

What followed next was predictable badgering about the why's and how-could-you's of my intentional ditching of the dance. After that was said and done…well mostly, I don't think Jessica got over it…I stayed and offered my opinions on the dresses they had picked out, which wasn't more than "That looks nice," "I like the color," "It fits well," and the occasional, "Well, what do you think about it?" Apparently I was grossly unhelpful because I was dismissed from my duties as fashion consultant and told to meet them at the restaurant after picking up the book I had ordered.

* * *

"Thank you," I called behind me as I left the small bookshop on the corner of Wade Street and Deep Avenue. The small bell tinkered as I let the door fall back on its hinges, and I remember the wooden stairs groaning as I descended to the sidewalk. Dusk had fallen, swathing everything in a lavender-blue glow. I began walking down Wade Street, the brown paper bag that held "The Third Wife and Other Quileute Legends," crinkling to match my steps. Fifteen minutes later, the light from the sunset had grown darker and now only the soft incandescence of the street lamps lit the sidewalks. And I had to admit, I was completely lost. I am not good with directions on any normal day, but given the eerie, strange setting I found myself in I couldn't even be sure which way I had come from.

Alone, on the broken pavement of unnamed Port Angeles streets, awful images, and frightening phrases came to mind…_On a dark, and stormy night, there was a murder. The thugs came up from behind the poor, innocent, young girl—not yet eighteen—and mercilessly clobbered her from behind. Stuffing her limp corpse into a conveniently situated dumpster, they crept silently away into the dead quiet of the night_. In a moment of reason I promptly disregarded my imaginings based on the simple observation that it was not raining and therefore my "vision" could not possibly come true. I say "_moment_ of reason" because it was very quickly overshadowed by a large raindrop that landed unceremoniously on my head. Soon, that one raindrop became thousands and I tried to hurry to stand in the doorway of a closed shop before I got soaked.

"Fucking Murphy and his fucking laws," I muttered under my breath. I forced myself to stay calm and breathe, to separate fact from fear. Fact: It was dark, raining, and I was lost in a strange city. Fear: It was dark, raining, and I was lost in a strange city. How beautifully I distinguished between the two.

About, I would say, seven or so blocks from where I was taking refuge from the onslaught of rain, I could see the florescent lights of a twenty-four hour convenience store. If I was to have any luck of finding the restaurant where Jessica and Angela were waiting, it would be to get directions from one of the clerks there. So I braced myself for the cold, green, slime that the North-Western United States called rain, tucked my newest purchase into my protective suit and began trekking toward the convenience store, head down.

I had not made it twenty yards when I came across a man hunched over a garbage receptacle; his silhouette was hazy due to the sheer amount of rain that was thundering down. I supposed it must have been the gravel crunching under my boots that made him notice me. He turned around to face me; his long hair was plastered to his face and green droplets dripped off his cheekbones. Even with such poor visibility I could clearly make out his bright blue eyes watching me. He staggered in front of me.

"Scuse me missus, but I was wonderin if you could ha'the heart to spare me some change."

"I'm sorry but I need to get by."

"An you will, I swear it missus, but I'm only a coupla dollars short of buyin meself one'a'those protection suits."

"Sir, I'm sorry, but I really don't have any money to give you," I tried to maneuver around him but the man caught hold of my arm.

"Oh, I think you do missus, an I'm more than happy to wait, even in this weather." He tightened his grip on my arm—his icy blue eyes locked on mine.

I tried to keep my voice steady when I answered him, "Let me go, I don't have anything for you."

His eyes flitted across my face, "So, ye ha'no money?"

"None."

"Not even fer one of them hover taxi's?"

"I don't have any money for a hover taxi, sir. Just like I don't have any money for you," I said carefully. His grip on my arm never relaxed, if anything, he clamped down harder.

"Well then missus, I think we can arrange for some other form of payment," his eyes wandered slowly down my body, no doubt trying to imagine what was underneath my heavy protection suit.

"The thing is," I said as I tried to back away, "I'm pretty sure stores aren't going to accept that as a…viable payment option. And since you'd still be a couple of dollars away from a suit anyhow, I don't really see how I can be of help to you. And well, long story short, I think—and I'm emphasizing this here—that you should just let me go and I'll be on my way, then."

The man smiled at me, his blue eyes flashing, "Ye know missus, I never did need one'o'them protection suits."

What happened next was so fast, I only caught bits and pieces of it. The man gave a loud howl, then began strained, labored breathing…he slumped forward giving one last gurgling sound…his grip loosened enough for me to pull my hand away and leap backwards…he landed with an unceremonious, dull thud on the gravel…through the rain I saw the silhouette of…

"Bella? Are you hurt?"

"Edward?"

"Tell me, are you hurt," Edward demanded as he came to my side.

"No, I'm fine, only startled."

"Good. Let's go." Edward stepped aside and walked forward a few steps only to realize that I wasn't following. I was looking at the man on the gravel, or more precisely, at the knife protruding from his back and his crimson blood that had begun to mix with the green raindrops in a small dark puddle beside him.

"Edward—What have you done?"


	17. The RunIn

*Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight and all of the characters therein

**The Run-In**

"Edward," I repeated. "What have you done?"

"What was necessary," he said grimly, taking a hold of my shoulder and leading me to his hover car, which was conveniently, parked a block or so down the road.

"You considered that _necessary_?"

Edward surprised me by the ferocity in his response, "What would you have had me done? Watched him hurt you or force you to…No, I would not have that on my conscience for any person. But you aren't just any person to me, Bella! Can't you grasp that?"

I opened and closed my mouth a couple of times before spluttering out a shaky, "I'm trying to."

"This doesn't have to be an interrogation, Bella. Can't you just say thank you and be done with it?" His voice was raw as he pleaded with me.

"Thank you for saving me, Edward."

The corners of his lips twitched into a faint smile, "You're welcome."

"But Edward, I'm not going to say thank you for killing a man for me. I never wanted that."

Edward looked pained, but he stepped closer to me until mere inches separated his handsome face from mine, "Unfortunately for me, that man is still breathing." I waited for him to clarify—after all, I had seen the knife in the man's back not five minutes ago. "Don't misunderstand me, Bella. I wanted very badly to kill him. In fact, it was quite difficult for me to let him go, given what he wanted to do to you. But, I knew that if I did then you… you wouldn't look at me the same way again. You'd see me differently—as a murderer, a monster without morals—when I have fought so hard to not be that person." Edward stopped, and squeezed his eyes shut as if what he was about to say caused him physical pain. "I placed the knife clean through his shoulder. I can promise you, I didn't hit any organ of importance. He's on the ground because he fainted, not because he died."

I nodded my head slowly, as if I understood what he was trying to tell me. As much as I appreciated his intervention (and I did, there's no questioning that), what was I supposed to think of a man whose solution for saving someone was hurtling a knife into someone's back?

"Bella? Please?" He looked to me for a response, probably any response that would somehow console him into thinking he had done right. I surprised myself by answering abruptly.

"I can't deal with this right now, Edward."

He glanced back toward the bleeding man on the ground, who had now taken up whimpering softly, and gave a quick nod.

"I understand."

"Can we leave, please?" I asked, following his gaze.

"Of course," he said quietly and like the gentleman that he was, he held the hover car door open for me. I climbed in quickly, careful not to let my protection suit get caught in the door as Edward closed it. He walked around the front of his hover car and, all in one fluid motion, stepped himself into the driver's seat, closed the door, and started the engine. Unlike my ancient vehicle, Edward's hover car let out a gentle purr as it levitated ten feet off the ground and began to float forward. After a moment or two of silence, where both Edward and I were busy staring out the front window and adamantly avoiding the other, he turned to me.

"Would you like me to drive you somewhere?"

"Angela and Jess are waiting for me at this restaurant on the corner of Main Street and Goodly Avenue," I provided.

"Does this restaurant have a name?"

I cracked a smile as I realized the irony of what I was saying, "Yeah, the _Run-In_."

Edward surprised me by laughing. Boisterous and carefree, his laugh was infectious and soon I joined him. He recovered first, flashing me his beautiful crooked smile.

"It could have been worse."

"How?"

"It could've been called _La Bella_. Then you would have been a bella Bella in _La Bella_."

"Cute."

Edward turned to me with a smile and one eyebrow raised. He should have dazzled me with his flawless face, and his signature crooked smile, like he had every other time he looked at me that way. Except this time, even though I registered his carefree expression, I felt a stab of terror race through me when I focused on his eyes. DEAD! My brain shrieked at me. These past few weeks I had looked into Edward's eyes and felt comfort in his murky, brown irises, but now the fear that had once possessed me came rushing back in full force. How had I forgotten how utterly lifeless his eyes appeared? How could I not have remembered his ghoulish pupils, staring blankly, filled with an indescribable depth? The more I looked at his eyes, the more I felt as though I was standing on the precipice of an unfathomably deep chasm and if I didn't grab hold of something soon, I'd go tumbling in with no way of knowing how long it would take to reach the bottom, or if was even possible to dig myself out again. Before I had convinced myself that I was looking into the dull, glazed-over eyes of a cadaver, but now…now I could sense there was something else behind those irises. _Predator_, the word drifted into my mind as if someone had whispered it in my ear; _Hunter_.

"Bella, is something wrong?" I heard Edward ask.

"Edward," I tried to keep my tone neutral though by now the only thought running laps in my mind was to get myself out of the hover car and as far away from him as possible.

"Yes?"

"How did you find me?" Silence. Edward stared through the windshield; the only visible difference in his stance was the harsh line of his jaw as he clenched his molars together, and the strain evident on his knuckles from squeezing the steering wheel too hard. Now that I was looking closer at him, I could see the soft halo of light dancing around the contours of his body. I had always been aware of it, but these past few weeks I had been decidedly unobservant. I couldn't afford to do that anymore. There were just too many unanswered questions, too many things I didn't know. And if that voice that had whispered to me was right, what interest did any predator have except in its prey?

"How did you find me," I repeated sharply. Edward's aura flashed brightly, as if it was offended at my questioning. I would give him five seconds to answer, I thought, before I made a break for it. Five. His mouth pressed itself into a grimace. Four. His face contorted in what I read as anger. Three. If possible, his grip tightened on the steering wheel. Two. He closed his eyes and inhaled sharply. One. He swiveled his head to face me, staring at me through those awful eyes of his. I couldn't take it anymore! I took a deep breath, tore my eyes away from his, threaded my fingers on the release valve, and slammed all of my body into the door.

It didn't budge.

I heaved myself against it again and again, each time I did so I heard Edward calling my name with growing concern. Suddenly his hand shot out and grabbed my shoulder. I gave a shout as I felt a powerful vibration literally shake my shoulder.

"Why did you lock me in?" I practically shrieked at him.

"Bella, calm down. This model locks all doors when the hover car is in motion," He spoke calmly and even tugged on his door release valve to prove his point. Edward tried to reach out to me but I backed myself into the passenger door, staring at him in what I'm sure resembled a very frightened, caged animal (which is of course, how I felt at the time). "I'll make a deal with you, Bella," he said as he slowly withdrew his hand and placed it back on the steering wheel much to my instant appreciation.

"You can't have my soul," I blurted out and immediately regretted it. I definitely needed to scale back on those horror films, geez. "Ignore me," I corrected myself, "Continue, please."

Edward let the fainted smile grace his lips before he laid out the conditions of his bargain, "I'd like to take you to dinner, seeing as how we are parked in front of an appropriate establishment." He paused, allowing me to take a look outside the windshield. I hadn't even realized that we'd stopped, let alone parked in front of _The Run-In_. "You can ask me as many questions as I can answer as long as I am allowed to ask a few of my own questions first."

"And you will answer my questions?"

"Yes."

"All of them?"

"To the best of my ability, yes."

I sighed; this was probably the best I could hope for, "Alright, deal."

Hesitantly, I tested the door release valve. The door swung open easily. Edward just laughed. And so, in an attempt to be mature about the whole situation, I slammed the door to his shiny Volvo hover car, smiling in utter satisfaction.

"Hey! Bella!" I spun around to see Jessica calling my name from the other side of the parking lot. Angela was waving to get my attention. I ran to them, realizing how I felt a sense of freedom and loss at the same time, as I left Edward behind.

"Where were you?" Angela demanded as soon as I caught up with them.

"I got lost after the bookstore, and was lucky enough to meet Edward after," I gave them the abbreviated version.

"We tried looking for you and apparently Port Angeles doesn't have any Conferencers in working order," Jess blabbered on.

"Sorry, Bella, but we also ate dinner. Do you want us to wait until you order something?" Angela asked.

"No, thanks, but it is fine. I'm going to have dinner with Edward. We have some things to talk over."

"Are you sure? We could wait for you," Angela suggested. She really was such a sweetheart.

"Absolutely, Edward says he's also going to drive me home, so go ahead," I assured them, although technically I was hinging this on how much of a gentlemen I thought him to be. Before I let them take off, I made Jess promise to Conference me as soon as she got home. If I didn't answer, at least one person would know there was something wrong. And if worst came to worst, I was trusting that word would get out to Charlie. Though truthfully, I wasn't sure Charlie was going to be able to recover if something happened to me, not after losing Renee. As I waved goodbye to Angela and Jess, I realized how easy it would have been for me to jump into the back seat and close my eyes until we got back to Forks. Yes, it would have been easy for me to physically leave Edward, but I had a feeling he was not planning on truly giving me up. And if I were to be honest with myself, I don't think I could make a clean break from him. I was in too deep.

Against every primal instinct in my body, that was telling me to turn around and give running away a try, I took a couple of steadying breaths and began walking towards Edward. I could see him, even as dusk was beginning to give way to the dark of evening. He was leaning nonchalantly against his hover car, watching me.


	18. Answers

*Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight etc. etc.

**Answers**

The _Run-In _was a cozy restaurant with the dim, mood lighting, and the flickering candles on each table, and the gentle murmurs of conversation wafting up from the handful of relaxed diners. Edward managed to secure us a private booth in the back and we were seated without much fanfare, minus, of course, a little extra attention lavished on Edward by our attractive hostess. As soon as the hostess left us alone Edward turned to face me.

"What's your favorite color?"

I was taken aback at the absurdity of his question. Why would he possibly care about my favorite color of all things, especially given the circumstances of this evening? "Yellow," I said utterly deadpan, "because it's the color of sunshine and buttercups."

"Bella! Why?" Edward questioned; the hurt evident on his face.

I sighed, trying to find the right words to describe how angry, frustrated and upset I was feeling. "I'm sorry, I just…This is not a game to me, Edward…It's very hard for me not to know what's going on around me and when I'm with you…it feels like that all the time. Honestly, I don't know if…When you said you had some questions to ask me, I assumed that we'd be making progress toward…I don't know something…trust maybe. If you're not willing to take this seriously, Edward…I think it would be best if I left." Internally cursing myself for that eloquent expression of my feelings, I rose from the table. But before I could go anywhere, Edward had appeared by my side. How did he get there so fast?

"Please, Bella, stay a while. I apologize for the levity of my question— I'll be more serious now. I promise," his voice wavered as he pleaded with me. It took me a moment but finally I nodded my head and resumed my seat.

"What else do you want to know," I asked wearily.

"I know that I have…found you unexpectedly a couple of times now. Surprise I can understand, but why anger?"

I considered what he was asking me; it was a loaded question. "I suppose you'd like me to be honest," I only needed to wait a nanosecond for his agreement. I sighed. Well, if he didn't like what I had to say then so be it. He's the one that asked after all. "I hate it when you see me like this—this vulnerable, damsel-in-distress. It's not who I am, and it's definitely not who I identify with. I've lived my life playing adult to Renee and even to a lesser degree with Charlie. I'm a cop's daughter, I know how to handle myself, how to get by, how to live on my own—independently. I hate it how our most significant interactions have been because you had to rescue me, as if I had a sign on my forehead that said 'Fragile: Easily breakable'. And that's the other thing, why do I always see you as this knight in shining armor, riding in on your high horse like you're some, I don't know, arrogant Prince Charming or something—"

"You consider me an arrogant Prince Charming? Isn't that an oxymoron?" He tried to through his perfect, crooked smile at me. But I was not about to let that work on me today.

"Not now, Edward."

"Sorry."

"And I don't know where you come from or how you found me because you refuse give me even the slightest hint of an explanation, which is really frustrating! And you expect me to what? Swoon in your arms? Oh wait, I've already done that! I honestly don't know what you want from me, Edward. I can't keep up with this anymore. You're going to have to give some to get some, as they say—" I broke off my tirade when I noticed the waitress, standing mutely by our table in shell-shock, I would imagine. Edward was really, much more tactful.

"Thanks for the water, Betty," Edward said, reading her nametag, "we don't need anything else at the moment but thanks again."

"Not a problem," Betty stammered before heading off again, no doubt to seek refuge in some other customer's order. I cupped my face in my hands.

"I'm sorry for ranting at you. I really do appreciate you coming to save me, I just wish that's not the only image of me that's in your memories. Does that…does that even make sense?"

Edward nodded, gazed at me with those enigmatic eyes of his and said in all seriousness, "Believe me when I say that saving you, even after all those times, does not represent even a fraction of the memories I have of you."

I tried, unsuccessfully, to hide the blush creeping up into my cheeks by taking a few pulls from my water. Hearing him say that was both frightening and hands-down the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me. It was always just so damn confusing around Edward.

"Bella," his velvet voice seemed to wash over me even though he had only whispered, "Who do you think I am?"

This was it. The moment that I had been waiting for—I could confront him about Jacob's stories, demand to know if they were true. But somehow, I couldn't quite bring myself to do it just yet. My voice was hoarse as I answered him, still internally debating with myself.

"I think that you are Edward Cullen; enigmatic figure extraordinaire; sometimes my rescuer, sometimes my lab partner, always frustrating…"

"And?" Edward prompted, catching my hesitation. Instead of answering right away, I took the time to unzip my protection suit, which had, by this point, been discarded on the seat next to me, and pull out the brown, crinkly bag from that small bookstore I had visited earlier this evening. Already it seemed like it had happened a few months instead of a few hours ago.

"This is the reason I came with Angela and Jess to Port Angeles," I whispered removing the small book from the bag. Almost reverently, I opened the front cover and mentally scrolled down the table of contents. Finally pinpointing it, I began to flip through the several short stories, pausing on page one hundred and seventy-one. The only sounds to be heard were the soft chafing of the cream-colored pages and my ragged breathing, as I stared down at the open pages. At the top, in swirling, calligraphic letters read the chapter's title, "From Flames to Embers: The Legend of the Sun Children."

"Will you read to me?" I asked quietly as I slid the open book toward him.

"Bella," his voice was hoarse as he stared down at the page.

"Please," I said drawing my hand back to my half of the table. It was a full minute before he started. But when he began, I found myself riveted—captivating by each syllable that escaped his lips.

"_It has been said that man craves for war before he thinks to yearn for peace. Certainly this has been proven time and time again in the rich tapestry of human history. It was the elders of the Quileute tribe who have seen the red thread of war woven too many times into this tapestry's pattern to ignore it, though there were many who refused to acknowledge its presence. It snakes through even the simplest of designs, marring what could easily have been a peaceful era. Those who governed this nation were fools, and believed that the lurking threats were no more than consequential than the empty taunts of school children who were too young to understand their significance. How they were wrong._

_ Fearing for the lives of their peoples, the Quileute elders had built a safe house for their tribe. The elders even tried to reach out to their surrounding countrymen, offering them refuge from the dark storm they suspected was just beyond the horizon. But their words went unheeded as neighboring townsmen laughed at the so-called zealously, cautious elders. Knowing that they could do no more, the elders led their tribe to their haven to hide them away from the evils of war. Since none but the Quileute's knew the way to this safe house, it was as if the entire tribe had vanished from the face of the earth. _

_ And when those threats, thought to be harmless by those self-assured, suddenly and unexpectedly came to fruition, the devastation was unlike anything that had ever been seen. The Gasses, a lethal concoction of toxic biochemical and radiation, were unleashed onto every continent leaving every surface it touched more barren and uninhabitable than the lunar surface itself. The horrors of these Gassings have been much too awful to put into legend. There are none who wish to remember the tortured faces of the dying, giving their last breaths over to bloodcurdling screams and pitiful moans. Yet everyone remembers, for they must. And so the brightest, most crimson thread was embroidered onto the tapestry, glistening hideously. _

_ When the Quileute's emerged from their safe haven, they were sickened by the mangled corpses and the rotting flesh and disgusted by the utter disregard for human life. The elders, in their small corner of the world, began to rebuild life as they knew it. They offered aid to those who were still alive to receive it, those who had thought to hide themselves away from the blazing glare of the Gasses. As the Quileute's began to slip back into a semblance of the lives they had before, they learned of an awful truth. There were those, who had been in direct contact with the Gas, who had survived. Against all possibility, there were those who by some flawed miracle were spared. Yet the cost of their lives was paid for with blood. Once humans, these survivors became monsters. Those who saw these creatures describe them as individual beacons of light, shining amidst the ruins. The same radiation that had been absorbed by their bodies and had saved them from certain death demanded nothing less than the blood of their companions. It has been rumored that drinking the blood of men allows these creatures to retain aspects of their old selves. But what monster can truly possess, even a glimmer, of humanity when they repeatedly sacrifice all morality by killing and defaming their fellow men?"_

Edward's voice faded into silence. Suddenly he slammed the book shut and stared at me with a look of such intense pain that I was forced to look away. I had never seen a true emotion in his eyes before, seeing such a devastating one now brought tears to my eyes.

"Is this what you think I am?" Edward's voice was absolutely raw.

I took a breath, my throat just as hoarse, "Am I wrong?"

Edward slumped forward, hands cradling his head, elbows rested on the table in front of him. This was not a side of Edward that I had ever seen. He looked…vulnerable? Defeated? I couldn't quite find words to describe how utterly broken he appeared in that instant.

"I don't think that you're a monster, Edward," I clarified, hesitantly.

"But you do think I am an Ember?"

"Yes."

"According to this," he waved vaguely at the book, "you can't be one without also being the other."

"It doesn't have to be a paradox, Edward. You told me yourself that you've tried hard to not be that monster…For what it's worth, I believe you."

Both of us fell silent after that. Edward had at least discarded his previous slump and sat back in his chair, thoughtfully watching me. Besides having nothing to else of worth to say, it just didn't feel right to break the silence. So I waited for him to be the first to speak. My meal came, the waitress went, and still Edward sat quietly watching me.

Turns out, I'm not a particularly patient person.

"Edward," I prodded.

His crooked smile worked its way back onto his handsome face, "What would you like to know?"

"You're a tad faster than the average person, I've noticed."

He just laughed, "Super-speed doesn't exist per se. Embers can manipulate molecules, to an extent. By manipulating the movement of molecules we can, in essence, influence time. If I want to…will time to slow, I still move at the same speed as I always do, but it appears to bystanders as if I am—how did you put it—a tad faster than the average person."

I nodded, processing the information. "And you glow."

"A simple byproduct of the radiation," Edward answered.

"Okay, back up a second. The radiation? How does that happen again?"

"To offset the amount of radiation that enters the body, our DNA has adapted to absorb the radioactive elements without damaging its genetic information."

"So you're like, what, half human, half…radiation?" I asked trying very hard to wrap my head around this concept. I smiled as an apology for my apparent confusion.

"A crude analogy, but yes, that's the gist," Edward grinned back at me. Abruptly, his smile disappeared and his tone became somber. "The legend was right about one thing, though."

"Sorry?"

"We need blood to survive."

_I'm eating dinner across from a glowing vampire_, I thought to myself, _this is too absurd_.

"I'm going to ask a dumb question now," was my intelligent follow-up to Edward's confession.

"Thanks for the heads up," Edward chuckled.

"No problem. So, uh, what's the difference between you and a vampire then?"

"Minus the radiation element? Vampires don't exist," Edward responded gleefully, "but I do."

I leaned back into my seat and folded my arms across my chest. Sensing my frustration Edward let out another low chuckle before he continued.

"Hypothetically speaking, vampires consider blood their primary food source, in addition to an erotic outlet for some seriously pent-up sexual lust—"

"Wait, what?" I interrupted. Pent-up sexual lust? Didn't every vampire in known literature end up sleeping with some young beauty? Edward cocked his head to one side, amusement lighting up his features.

"Vampires are always depicted as having no heartbeat, right?"

"Right."

"Having a heartbeat happens to be…important in the bedroom." I stared at him blankly. "…You need to have a pulse to get…excited."

Oh my goodness, he's talking about getting an erection!

"Got it," I said, my face blushing profusely. "And Embers…" I trailed off fighting off that feeling you have in those intensely awkward situations where all you want to do is flee the scene and never see that person again.

Edward smiled his signature crooked grin and spoke in his most seductive voice, "I have a heartbeat, if that's what you mean."

* * *

**My apologies for leaving the update a little late. Hopefully, this chapter will make up for it. As always, please review and let me know what you think!**


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